Karma: A Hunt
by Mad-Eyed Owl
Summary: The Plutarkian War is finally over. As the planet tries to pick up the pieces again, the guys are assigned with a mission to search for Harley. Their designated tracker, however, is less than happy with their company...
1. Three Big Infants

Greetings, my minions. Yes, tis Mad-Eyed Owl again, reminiscing about that distant time now misted over – way back in that classic, ancient age called the 1990's. God, I loved growing up in the 90's. It was brilliant. I don't care what the employment rates say. And one of my favourite cartoons at that time was the Biker Mice from Mars. I thought they were so cool. With their bikes and their Mars.

Anyway. Enjoy. Get back to me with reviews. PLEASE. There. I asked nicely.

Peace out.

* * *

There were flowers growing in the gutter. 

That was the first thing Throttle noticed when he went outside to get the mail. Real flowers.

He'd been so surprised he'd dropped his letters, and they'd drifted down to the ground like a flurry of leaves. He hadn't seen flowers in Mars for so long that it completely kicked him out to see them now. Flowers were on Earth, not Mars.

He glanced at the sky, almost too hopeful. No clouds. _Am I surprised_? But they would come – he was determined that they would.

He turned around and went back inside, reading his letters. There were two, both of them bills. But that was OK – it was almost a relief to get them. Life was getting back to normal if people were trying to tax him.

The radio was blaring noisily, so he didn't hear the phone right away. His phone was the type that got louder and louder with each ring, so he almost had a heart attack when a screeching "brrrrring!" howled from the wall. He turned the radio off and snatched it up quickly.

"Hello?"

"Hey. It's me."

Carbine. Throttle sighed inwardly. "Hey."

Privately, he would have preferred a telemarketer instead of his girlfriend. _Ex-girlfriend_, he reminded himself. _We aren't together anymore. She broke it off twenty minutes after I arrived back on Mars_. That had been almost two months ago.

"How you goin'?"

"I'm getting on with it. You?"

"Peachy." She cut to the chase, just like she always did. "I have an assignment for you."

"You still playing General?"

"I'm _always_ playing General." She didn't sound amused. "If you could meet me at my office at Domicile tonight, that would be great."

"You're not telling me now?"

"It's a little secret." He could hear her smiling. "Just a little secret."

"OK." He tried to put a smile in his voice too, but it didn't quite work. "So what time?"

"Around six. Six would be good." She was musing.

"Uh-huh."

"And don't be late." She sounded serious. "This is one of those clichéd life-and-death situations here. It's important to me."

"Fine. I'll meet you there."

"Great. See you tonight, then." She hung up.

_It's important to me_. He played it over and over in his mind as he put the phone back. _Of course it's important to you. But wasn't_ I _important to you_?

He already knew the answer. The title of "General" in Carbine's name was the most important thing in his ex's entire life. He knew she would never let go of it easily – _unlike how you let go of me_.

He sat back down at the table and read his bills again, just for something to do. He dreamed of Carbine ringing him up and wanting him back, but it would never happen. He knew that much.

_We just don't work. I'm sorry, but it's been too long_.

Totally cool with that, girl. Off you go.

It's the only way I can cope without you right now.

* * *

He'd been to Carbine's office before. It was a tiny room with her desk in the centre, and windows at the back looking over the Domicile camp. He knew the office very well – he and Carbine had known the floor particularly. And the walls. And the chair. And the surface of the desk. 

She was standing with her back to the door, watching the cadets as they practiced their combat skills. She heard him come in, but didn't turn around. "Hey, Throttle."

"Hey, Carbine."

She turned her head and smiled at him. "What's up?"

"Nothin' much." He sat down and watched her as she slid into her chair on the other side of the desk. He knew the way she moved – he'd always know.

"The other guys will be here in minute, I guess. I called Vinnie and Modo," she added to his questioning expression. "This is a big job. So I called in the big boys," she said with a wicked grin.

Throttle nodded, and they fell into a God-awful silence. Carbine seemed quite fascinated with the surface of her desk, and Throttle was just fascinated with her. It lasted maybe a minute before Carbine looked up and met his eyes firmly. "Throttle –"

She was going to say something important; he could see it on her face. And he didn't want to hear it. "I know. It's OK."

"What do you know?"

"You were about to tell me why we can't be together."

"Oh." Carbine sat back. "Yes."

"Don't start. Please. We've gone through this and I know. End of subject."

She nodded again, dropping her eyes. "OK."

Carbine only ever showed her vulnerability in little flashes. He savoured each second, because he knew he might never see it again.

When the door opened and Vinnie and Modo came bouncing in, Throttle was ready to hug them. _Please save me from these clumsy moments with her_. They hadn't seen each other for a while, too, so there was backslapping to be had. The boys managed to restrain themselves from tackling each other in Carbine's office – last time they did that, she'd called security and had threatened to shoot off important parts of their anatomy. They weren't game to see if she still meant it.

"Good to see you're all here," Carbine said smoothly. Always a professional.

Vinnie was fidgeting in his seat. "So, Carbine – do you need me to save the world again?"

Carbine rolled her eyes. "What I would _like_ you to do is to preferably drop off a log… but I _need_ you for an assignment."

"You injure me, lady." Vinnie grinned.

"It was meant to hurt." She grinned back anyway, baring her teeth savagely. "Shut up and I'll tell you what you want to know."

"Gladly."

She paused, giving him the eye. "I'm sending you out to look for Mace Sordovsta."

Modo growled audibly. "You're only sendin' us out to do that _now_?"

"In a word, yes." Carbine looked at him warningly. Modo shut up.

"I know it's been a while, but we've been getting reports of a large male Rat seen around backwater towns, sometimes with a young blonde Mouse-girl. He sticks around for a while, doesn't talk to anybody, and then leaves. We interviewed a woman who saw him, and she identified him as Mace."

Carbine paused delicately and listened to the silence. "She identified Harley as well. It's the first time in four years that anyone's had any sighting of either of them, and Harley's family put forward an appeal to track Mace immediately. So I'm asking you guys – _asking_ – to help with the search teams."

"How many are there?"

"Four. North, south, east and west."

Throttle looked at her. "Are we going as a group of three, or –?"

Carbine raised her eyebrows. "No, actually. I've hired one of our best trackers in the field to help you out."

"Tracker?" Modo looked blank. "Ain't that from the movies?"

"Private investigation is actually a real occupation." Carbine folded her hands under her chin. "Tracking is a slang term for it. Their job is to inspect certain cases that involve a missing individual or individuals, at least one of them being criminal, and hunt them down to apprehend them. They're not real cops – that's for us to handle. But they're useful…" she wrinkled her nose. "Even if the one I'm hiring doesn't come cheap. She's worked for us before. She's _very_ good, and she knows it." Throttle could see Carbine mentally adding _bitch_ on the end of her sentence.

"Carbine, we can find Mace by ourselves, we can _handle_ this sort of thing!" Vinnie was indignant. "Who is it, anyway?"

"Karma Supersede." Carbine made it sound as though that should clear up any disagreement, but it didn't.

Vinnie growled. "Jeez, we don't need the –"

Suddenly the door swung open. Everyone turned around to look as the tracker called Karma framed the doorway.

Karma had dark blonde hair that was highlighted in platinum and black. It was gently wavy, wafting down to her shoulders and brushing the teasingly low neckline of her body-hugging white singlet. She had on a pair of snug jeans and plain black boots, with a comfortable leather jacket. She wasn't dressed up in the least, but the way she stood and the way she spoke was enough to make Throttle stare at her with his mouth open and agape. She was _hot_.

Karma tilted her gorgeous head to one side. "You called?" Her voice came out in a husky, sexy little purr. It was a soft voice, but it made everyone go quiet.

Carbine nodded. "I did. Sit down."

Karma sashayed across the room, as though she owned it, and glided into one of the chairs next to Modo. She didn't even look at him – her eyes were on Carbine.

"So… what's new?"

Carbine slid the folder over the desk to Karma's waiting hand. "Read it. It's the case file against Mace Sordovsta… I'm sure you've heard of him."

Karma's eyes trailed over the words in front of her, and she reached into her pocket absently, producing a packet of cigarettes. She lit one, and then offered the packet to Carbine. To Throttle's surprise, Carbine accepted.

Karma blew out a hazy cloud of smoke as she murmured, "Mace Sordovsta… haven't heard that name for a long while." She sounded like she was musing. "Thought you woulda given up that case by now."

Carbine leaned in close, chuckling softly. "We don't give up… we just leave things alone, make the criminal feel comfortable, wait until they make a wrong move… then we snap 'em." She blew a long stream of smoke into Karma's face.

Karma smiled as she glanced up from the file. "What bullshit. You're not at a press conference, General – of course you gave up on Harley. That's why you've called me to do this for you." This was a woman who was not in the least afraid of Carbine. Throttle was suddenly very interested in how Carbine would react.

"How very observant of you." Carbine took the criticism in a very cool and un-Carbine way. Throttle wondered if it was just the smoke or if she was putting on the act on purpose. Was she nervous around Karma? Now _that_ would be interesting.

The tracker in question shrugged. "Observation pays good. And I'm observant enough to know that it's taken a long time for Mace to make a wrong move."

"True, that."

Karma took a thoughtful draw on her fag, the tip of it glowing like her own personal Hell. "Jeez, Carbine, some of the guys I've tracked for you don't even make wrong moves in prison, even if they _do_ grasp that nobody gives a fuck what they do once they're behind bars."

Carbine considered the light hanging from the ceiling, smoke trailing up from the end of her cigarette. "True…" She blew out another stream of smoke. She was following Karma like a lamb.

Karma nodded silently, reading the file. "Says here he's on other charges apart from kidnapping Harley… what else's this Rat done?"

"Fraudulence to the state, physical assault, murder, attempted murder, possession and usage of unauthorised explosive material, a _stack_ of theft charges, alcohol smuggling to forbidden areas –"

Karma chuckled. "Oh, I remember alcohol smuggling. That was lotsa fun."

"Alkie smuggling? Since when were you involved in that?"

"I apprehended a lot of people for that, remember – back in the day, when we were young…"

"Oh yeah. Fun times." Carbine rolled her eyes. "Let's see, what else… open hostility with intent, violence and attempted assassination to authoritive figures and civilians, possible rape charges…"

Karma looked up at the last comment. "Re-ally…" she said meditatively, as she exhaled a tempest of tobacco miasma. "Who's the lucky chickie?"

"I said it's _possible_. Harley's a pretty girl," Carbine took her time to take another drag, "and I think he didn't kidnap her for just any old reason."

"Is it proven?"

"Does it need to be?"

Karma raised her eyebrows. "Damn…"

She snapped the file shut and handed it back to Carbine. "I gotta say, Carbine, this is gonna be interesting."

Carbine's expression suddenly epitomised a transparent 'uh-oh', but she managed to keep it out of her voice. "How so?"

"Most of the men – and women," she added after a moment, "that I've ever stalked for you have been alone. They don't have any hostages with 'em, which is good, cos it meant I could concentrate on the job properly. The two hostage-jobs I did for you were different from this – in the case of Dusky, I had several other detectives helping me. And Tumult-Furore released her hostages within two days before killing herself, the bitch… so I don't think that counts as much. They didn't move around with their hostages like Mace does, and didn't have access to so many areas that I can't get into."

"Whaddya mean?"

"He's a Rat. He can go hide in Rat communities. Can't track him there."

"Oh." Carbine lost all poise and began to look distinctly worried.

Karma blinked her long lashes. "If he's got a pretty little mouse-girl with him… things could get a tiny, _teensy_ bit ugly. He'll use her as a shield, and that means he'll hurt her to scare me off. If she's brainwashed, and I can promise you she will be, then Harley will do exactly what he tells her to – even if it means shoot me 'tween the eyes. That in turn would lead to me defending myself, which would mean that I'd shoot back. Sorry, but I ain't taking any blame if she gives up the ghost." She said it as mildly as if she'd just been discussing politics or the weather. Her expression was docile, with her eyebrows slightly raised.

Carbine sat back in her seat, looking into Karma's eyes through a wall of murky haze. "We'll see what we can do about that when we actually get enough information," she said firmly. "Right now, I just want you to track him, maybe get close to him if you can, the usual dig…"

Karma nodded. "Will do. So now that we've discussed this…" her eyes slid over to the three guys, slightly patronising, "… why're these guys here?"

Carbine chose her words delicately. "Well… as you mentioned before, Mace has a hostage. So that means you have twice the responsibility – and since I didn't want to overly press you, I thought it would be good if you had a little help." She paused. "Just in case Mace gives you any… trouble," she supplied.

Karma's eyes were dark blue, almost indigo, and were as hard as rocks. It was only then that Throttle noticed a thin jagged scar, running down from the right corner of her mouth and under her chin. It looked wrong on her beautiful face, like a splash of red wine on a white silk tablecloth.

Karma's words were very brisk. "I don't work with Neanderthals."

Carbine cleared her throat. "I'd watch what you say, Karma. These guys know their stuff."

"Yeah? Well I know more stuff than they do." Karma crossed her legs and leaned back in her chair, one hand raised elegantly as she balanced her cigarette between fingertips. "Either you drop the chumps or I drop the job. I don't wanna be lookin' after three big infants."

Vinnie's hackles rose. "Hey, we could probably do this better than you –"

Carbine's warning stare came too late. Karma pounced, a beatific smile on her face. "Could you really?" She sneered. "I doubt that, White-Fur. I've been in this job since I was eighteen. Lots and lots of the lifetime criminals you see in prison have been caught by little old me." She spread her hands. "And I don't even carry a blaster," she said wistfully, her eyes on Vinnie's holster.

Vinnie didn't back down. "What's that got to do with it? Mace's been on the run for years and nobody's even got close to touching him – what makes you think you can catch him now?"

Karma smiled mysteriously. "I have my ways." She finished her cigarette and looked at Vinnie with large eyes. "And I have my advantages, see? One: He doesn't know me. Two: I'm female and I'm blonde. Three: I can act as dumb as I want." She held up three long fingers. "I could knock him out by slippin' a little pill in his drink while pretending to be a whore. Sorry to break it to ya, but Mace isn't gonna find you all that attractive when you walk in the door, unless he's gay – and even then I'd have my doubts about him wantin' to screw you."

Carbine sniggered accidentally. Karma grinned. Vinnie scowled.

Karma's smile fell off her face with calculated alacrity. "See that, General?" she said without breaking eye-contact with Vinnie. "If he lost his temper for real, then we'd _really_ be screwed. What'll I do if that happens? Mace will be shifty enough. I need to keep him buttered up – White-Fur there will screw it so fine it'll be admissible for a new fuckin' religion."

Carbine was seething. "Alright. I see your point." Her voice was very, very tight. She was going to make Vinnie eat his own genitalia when Karma left.

Karma glanced at her. "God. You do? How quaint." She put her hands behind her head and considered the ceiling, thoughtful. "Have a think, now."

"Double the price," Carbine said, hunting for a different approach. "We'll pay you double."

"You could offer me quadruple, Carbine. No dice." She stood up. "You know what? I don't have time for this. I gotta lot of other clients beggin' for my services, and they're willing to pay me a lot of money to do jobs that are a lot easier than this. So either you play with my rules, General, or you don't play with anything." She rocked all her weight onto one hip. "I'll let you think about it. Have a good night."

She whirled on her toe and floated out the door, slamming it behind her.

There was a moments' silence in which Carbine glared at Vinnie poisonously. Then she stood up too. "_You_… will die… a _horrible_ death," she spat at his face. "And I hope I am _there_ when you do." She grabbed her jacket and stormed out of her office.

Vinnie looked visibly hurt. "Something I said?"

"Vinnie, you're such a dick."

"And you're such a bleedin' heart," he snapped at Throttle. "You only came here so you could see her, and if something happens to make her happy she might take you back – you think she's gonna do that? She's a _bitch_, Throttle. Wake up to yourself, for God's sake."

Modo finally intervened. He told Vinnie to keep his mouth shut, but it was already done.

It was Throttle's turn to walk out. Because Vinnie had just hit a very sensitive spot, and he wasn't sure if he wanted it exposed for the entire world to see just yet.

* * *

BWAH-HAH! Throttle's an emotional _wreck_… poor darling. 

Read and review, _sil vous plait_. Greatly appreciate it. Chapter two _comin' up_.


	2. Bon Mots, Bitching and Bribes

Greetings again. I got so excited over my two little reviews that I went ahead and wrote the whole second chapter, ignoring the fact I have a stack of homework and need to re-read 'Emma' and 'The Tempest' by next Tuesday. Thanks, curious fan and Whipblade. You brightened up exam-riddled school term. There is hope henceforth. Maybe if I get _two more_ reviews, I might even go on to write _Chapter Three_. Lordy above help us.

Heh. Sorry. It's 1:42 in the morning and I've just finished up. Ignore my ramshackle burbles, kids, and enjoy the show.

Peace out.

* * *

Carbine didn't even bother calling Karma during the next few days to try and cajole her into taking the job. They'd worked together before, and had had more to do with each other as time had passed – despite the fact they regarded one another with distinct and mutual disrespect hidden beneath civil smiles, they knew what the other was like. And Carbine knew, just as Karma knew that Carbine knew, that Karma was going to need a lot more than a few additional dollars in her bank account to make her set out to find a notorious Rat. As Karma had said, there were a lot of people willing to offer her a lot more money to do jobs that were much easier than this one. 

At the time, the Martian government was going under reform. The president, Dagger Hub, was finally put out of office due to corruption that was revealed shortly after the end of the Plutarkian War. Senior General Scabbard, the enduring war hero, was elected into office.

Being very good friends and affiliates with Scabbard, Carbine paid him a visit the very next day. The details of what they discussed were not revealed, but Carbine always seemed to leave his office in a much better mood than when she had entered – and if Karma had even known about the discussions between them, she would have immediately known that something very big and possibly very unfair was about to take place in her department.

* * *

Almost a week later, Carbine's ruse was set. Unable to wait, she proceeded to call Karma at an hour that might be considered inhumane by some. The phone was answered on the fourth ring. "What the Hell is it, you loser?" a voice snarled.

"It's Carbine. I'm ringing in relation to something that you might find to be very important."

Karma yawned audibly into the receiver. "Congratu-fucking-lations. I hope you have a wonderful wedding, but see, I'm just not a bridesmaid kind of girl."

It passed right over Carbine's head. "Excuse me?"

"Oh, so you're _not_ a desperate bride with no friends?" There was a rustle in the background – clearly, Karma was still in bed. "Is this really so important? Do you know what _time_ it is, woman?"

"I'm well aware of the time." Carbine decided she wasn't going to try and decipher Karma's sleep-deprived and vengeful snaps of retribution.

"I'm not surprised you don't have any friends if this is the way you treat them. Maybe you should _hire_ some bridesmaids. Coz believe me, you're –"

"Do you realise that you're obstructing governmental law by not taking this job?"

"Carbine. It's 2:32 in the morning, for God's sake. Go and bitch to one of your subordinates."

"If you don't do this job, we can easily arrest you for hindering duty."

"No you can't." Karma was very cool. "I don't work for you. You offer jobs to _me_, honey. You're drunk. OK? Go back to bed now."

"You wanna check that legislation, 'honey'?" Carbine was in Rottweiler mode. "A few things might've changed since the Plutarkian War."

Karma hung up.

Carbine rang her back. Karma answered and wailed loudly into the phone. "Just _go away_, will you? You're like a _mosquito_, buzzin' in my ear. Just _go freaking away_, I want to _sleep_."

"In a few hours, the papers are going to be printed for the whole world to see. And on the front page will be a very interesting article about a new Bill that was passed at a quarter to eight last night by the new president."

"Fuck-a-doodle-do." Karma was not impressed. "Oh happy day. Great tribute of celebration. My life is fulfilled henceforth. Carbine, rack off. I'm hanging up now."

"Do you want me to read it to you?"

"Will it make you go _away_?"

"It'll give you something to think about."

Karma groaned. "Go freaking well ahead."

Carbine smiled to herself. "Well, I'm paraphrasing here… but basically, the government has passed a law in relation to the duties of police and all of their affiliates – including private investigators, as you know. Blah-blah-blah, Plutarkian War, lot of missing person cases, kidnapping cases, et cetera that have been brought to attention… oh, this is my favourite line." Carbine cleared her throat dramatically. "'Any case that is deemed as 'of concern' by the government, should it be assigned to a member of the law system and/or affiliates, is now by law to be obligatorily carried out by that individual or individuals. Private investigators and detectives in particular now have a call of duty.' So, hypothetically… say that you were asked to investigate the disappearance of a certain girl. Say that you said no. Say that the government then labelled the girl's case as 'of concern'. And _just imagine_ if you now had a call of duty to your job."

Karma still wasn't rattled. "Bullshit."

"Did I mention it's an arrestable offence to refuse, Karma? And possibly worthy of a prison sentence."

All of a sudden, Karma was very, very awake.

"I'm sure Tumult-Furore would be very happy to meet you. Very happy indeed."

Karma's voice was a poisonous growl. "You're threatening me, General."

"Am I? Or am I just following orders from a higher power, in a situation that is now _beyond_ my control?" Carbine's voice was sugar-sweet.

There was a very, very long silence on the other end of the line. Then Carbine heard a very clear, "Oh, for _fuck's_ sake" before Karma hung up.

"Good," she said to herself as he put the phone down. "She'll do it."

* * *

Two days later, Karma and the boys set out for the briefing of Search Operation 1-37 A, codename Operation Hunt.

Karma was not pleased that the guys were tagging along with her. She didn't talk to them much, and distanced herself from them whenever possible. On the road, she travelled out front. Her blonde hair was twined into a plait, which whisked in the wind like a bullwhip as she rode. Throttle tried to chat to her, but her only response was a filthy look and ominous silence.

Mace had last been seen at the outskirts of a little village a couple of hundred miles out of Olympus Mons City. The four search teams met up there to be briefed by Carbine and the Commissioner of Police, Comet Blitzkrieg, before they set out. Throttle immediately noticed that his team was the largest – the rest came alone or in pairs.

Karma dismounted her bike and grinned at one of the trackers. "Howdy, chickenshit."

"Hey, angel-face. You lookin' even more beautiful than before." The man was about forty but looked older – he was bordering on emaciated and his greying hair was dreadlocked into a small ponytail at the base of his neck. He and Karma knuckled each other roughly, grinning.

"You doin' OK there, pretty girl?" The male tracker ran an eye over Karma's entourage. "I knew you was lonesome, but three's just a liddle ambitious."

"Not my choice." Karma spared a glance at the guys over her shoulder. "I was _very_ unwilling to take them."

"They don't look that bad, honeychild." The tracker sidled up to her and put a hand around her waist. "But if you really don't want 'em, you could just hitch wit me…"

"Skelter, you're an idiot." Karma smiled lovingly and twisted his wrist around the wrong way. Skelter snatched his hand back quickly.

"Jeez, lady… you're so hard to be friends with."

"I'm a nice person, Skelter. Come closer and see how nice I really am."

Skelter leaned back on his bike. "I'm not riskin' anything, you sexy morsel. No matter how cute your arse is."

Commissioner Blitzkrieg stood up. "Thankyou all for coming at such short notice. I'm sure you already know a little about this case." He paused. "As you know, you're all the best private investigators we have in the business."

"Not in my pack," Karma grumbled. Blitzkrieg ignored her.

"General Carbine might have told you some details about the structure of this search. There will be four teams, going north, south, east and west."

"Why?" A woman with dull brown fur and dyed purple hair looked at Blitzkrieg suspiciously. "He can only go one direction."

"That's true. The subject stayed around this town for about 36 hours before heading away in an easterly direction. However, the road he was travelling on encountered a crossway with another road. The woman we interviewed wasn't sure which way the subject went after that."

"He prob'ly just kept goin' east." Karma looked at Blitzkrieg disdainfully. "He's been on the road for a long time – it gets tiring being paranoid."

Carbine stepped in. "Be that as it may…" she said, meeting Karma's eyes squarely, "we can't be totally sure. That's why we have four teams, so they can investigate the four different directions the roads lead."

"Including west? He wouldn't have just turned around and gone back again."

"We can't take chances. We need to find him."

"Oh really? I didn't think of that." Karma narrowed her eyes nastily, but said nothing else.

"So…" Blitzkrieg produced four folders. "These are the files that hold the history of the case up until now and the profiles of Mace and Harley." He read out the titles. "Spitfire Lylow and Magnus Tore." Two men, one of them tall and dark, the other smaller with bright red fur, raised their hands. "You're on the northern run." They took their file in silence.

"Pandemonium Fritz-Wilde." A woman with purple hair put her hand up. "You're due west."

"Screw you," she muttered as she took her file. "I just _came_ from that direction."

"Helterskelter Lenience, southern run."

Karma swore loudly. "_Fucking_ Hell."

The rest of the trackers killed themselves laughing. "Karma got the dragon's den!" Pandemonium hooted. "Sucked _in_, girl!"

"Too bad, sugarboots." Skelter touched Karma's shoulder sympathetically.

"Karma Supersede, Throttle Novarise, Vincent van Wham and Modo Herculean; eastern run." Karma took her file sulkily and stuffed it in her saddlebag.

"Alright, I don't think we need to say anything else." Carbine stood with her hands behind her back. "Good luck to all of you."

The trackers muttered their thanks and started their engines. Without a backward glance, they headed out onto the road.

The trackers all seemed to have a fairly sound and yet abusive relationship with each other. The digs and bon mots were endless as they traversed down the road. Spitfire and Magnus pulled level with the guys as they rode and asked them who they were.

"Hoo, you went to Earth?"

"Lived there for six years."

"Shit, man. That would've been nuts."

"Yeah." Throttle was off-hand. "Still good to be home, though."

"Maybe for some." Vinnie broke off and gunned ahead.

Spitfire tilted his head. "'Sup with the white-fur? Is the weather better on Earth or somethin'?"

"Nah, Vinnie just left a lady behind." Vinnie hadn't been quite the same since they left Charley behind. He wouldn't admit it, but he missed her like crazy.

"Damn. That would suck." Magnus raised his voice. "Hey, Karma! You got yourself some alright company here."

"_Hey_!" Karma wheeled around and circled Magnus threateningly. "You're feeding them crap, I know it. Don't corrupt my team, I got my hands full as it is."

"T'was only a few words with 'em. Nothin' bad." Magnus neatly blocked her passage. "You jealous now?"

"I'm pissed enough to be menstruating, is what I am." Karma spun and led Magnus in a looping chase down the highway. She lowered her voice so only Magnus could hear. "Don't go makin' em feel welcome. I'm gonna be chasin' 'em off soon."

"Ooch." Magnus gave her a look. "Listen, beautiful – I know you're not a team player, but hey. Take a chance, will you? They could be useful."

"About as useful as tits on a bull."

"It's your choice." Magnus shrugged and didn't say anything more about it.

They reached the crossroads and stopped, about to go their separate ways. Skelter sighed dramatically, sending a fuzz of static over the comlink. "The great crossheads of life hereafter. Don't do anything that Papa Skelter does, hear? He wants all the glory for himself."

"Yes, Papa Skelter. Bring a present for Karma from Opposite the Pole." Karma fluttered her eyelashes. He smiled at her.

"Somethin' real pretty for the pretty girl. You all be good, now." He turned right and shot away.

"Well, I'm gonna be proverbial and ride into the setting sun, all the way back home." Pandemonium turned her bike around. "Got nothin' else t' do but patrol the city. See ya'll later."

"Have fun at home."

"I got a new boyfriend – I'll be havin' plenny'a fun." Pandemonium smirked and rode back towards Olympus Mons. "Good luck!"

"See ya round, Karma." Spitfire cackled as he passed. "Have fun in the dragon's den!"

"Get fucked, lowlife."

"Yeah, get fucked, lowlife." Magnus pulled up beside her. "Doesn't matter how fucked you get – Karma's already worse off anyhow."

"Fuck the both of you."

"Only if you're the one doing the f–"

"Sorry, I think I misheard. You wanna say that again, Magnus?"

Magnus considered the sky. "Mmm… nope. I don't think I do. Love you deeply, lady." He bowed to her. "Anytime you need rescuing –"

"I'll give you a call so you can come around and sort out all my problems." Karma blew him a kiss through her helmet. "Now piss off before I sauté your testicles in garlic and ginger."

"Good luck, princess." The pair of them turned left and gunned down the highway.

Karma sighed and looked ahead. "I get the dragon's den. Celebrate good times."

She looked back over her shoulder at the guys. "C'mon then, you lot." They moved forward.

"What's a dragon's den?" Throttle asked her.

Karma didn't even look at him. "Mace was due east, and when he came to the crossroads he most likely just kept going east. Meaning that we, being the eastern-bound team, have the highest chance of finding him and therefore the most difficult job. You're going right into the dragon's den."

"Isn't that good?"

"No."

"Why not?" Vinnie needled.

"Because I don't need your dumb company as it is, snow-balls. Shut up and ride."

* * *

They pulled up at a bombed-out slum town around midday. Karma went straight for the pub and walked into it like she belonged there. The guys followed her uncertainly.

Inside was dim, and not too crowded either – Throttle guessed that Karma liked it that way. She was leaning across the bar, talking softly to the barman.

She saw them come in and beckoned half-heartedly. "These luvverly boys've been helpin' me out," she said. Throttle was surprised to find that her accent had changed considerably. What was she doing?

The barman looked the three of them up and down. "Ah… helpin' yer lady-friend, huh?" He chuckled at them. "Might ah say she be a ra'aght liddle charmer, hey?"

Karma copied his accent flawlessly, giggling as she told him to "sherrdup, y'ole teaser". Throttle realised that she was trying to make it look like she was local. He shut his mouth and didn't say anything. He couldn't fake an accent like she could.

The barman turned back to Karma. "Sorry, kitten, we ain't had any Rats in this 'ere pub fer a _laawwwwng_ tarme. But if ya wanna, yeh kin ask some've these guys 'round." He waved his hand at the rest of the bar's residents. "Wha'ale yer addit, kin ah git yew any a drink? On the house."

Vinnie opened his mouth to say yes, but Karma shifted slightly and trod on his foot. He gave a small yelp and Karma glanced at him in surprise, as though she couldn't figure out why he'd done that. "S'matter wit'chew, son?"

She turned back to the barman. "Nah, we be just passin' through, pardner. But thank ya fer the offer. C'mon, _boys_." She winked broadly and headed back out the door, around the back of the pub. They followed.

She turned around with her hands on her hips. "Talk quietly." She looked fiercely at Vinnie. "Never, _ever_ do that again, hear me? _I_ do the talking here. You just do the heavy work."

"You could have _told_ us that," he snarled back at her.

"But would you have _understood_? Keep your fucking voice down!" she snapped. "Dammit, you drongo, we're here to find a wanted criminal, not to drink ourselves til we're legless. Besides, this place is notorious for fights, and I don't wanna get that physical just yet."

Vinnie said nothing, only glared at her. She narrowed her eyes. "Look, I'm _sorry_, OK? But you needed an example to follow. I'm a professional and I know what I'm doing. Get that through your head."

Modo shot in a comment before Vinnie could retort. "What exactly _were_ you doing there?"

She glanced at him, clearly glad to have somebody else to talk to. "Two points: I haven't met a bartender yet who forgets a customer. And he's not just a bartender, he's a convicted con man who runs drug and weapons deals for Mice _and_ Rats. This is usually where it takes place. If Mace was here dabbling in any other activities, that guy would know. I've seen him before; he thinks my name's Pop and that I'm a small-time _anja_ leaf dealer."

"And why does 'Pop' have a Dire Valley accent?" Modo looked puzzled.

"People welcome you better if you have something in common. If I rocked up and asked him with my lovely inner-city twang, he'd clam. Too many cops have an accent like mine, and he knows that. If Pop wasn't just like him, Pop probably would've gotten bumped off a few months ago." She grinned. "I wasn't too bad either, was I?"

"No, ma'am."

She laughed at him. "You do the accent better than me, though. I could really use that to my advantage."

"Really, ma'am?" Modo looked suddenly eager; if he could make the lady happy, then maybe she wouldn't be so bitter about having them with her.

"Yes indeed." For some reason, he didn't like the way she smiled at him.

She straightened abruptly. "Let's go for a walk in-town."

They walked out from behind the pub and up two blocks. "See that general store there?" Karma pointed up ahead.

"Yep."

"Just walk past and take a look at who's serving on the counter. Be real casual about it. Let's see what you're made of."

Modo shrugged and did as he was told. No big deal. When he came back he said, "Little teenage girl. She's alone."

"Good. Modo, I have something to ask you." She pressed a $50 note into his hand. "I want you to go into that store and pick some things up. Milk, bread, all that. When you take it to the service counter, flirt with the girl. Ask her if any Rats have been seen around here. She'll tell you."

"You want me to… _flirt_?" Modo looked incredulous.

"Well, she'd freak if I did it." Karma looked surprised that he seemed so intimidated. "If she was an old mother-type or a guy then I could do it, but she's not."

"Miss Karma, she's about fifteen."

"I don't care." Karma smacked him on the shoulder. "You think you can do this job, you gotta prove it to me. If you can do it, I might reconsider. You got ten minutes. Go."

Modo didn't have a choice. With a helpless look at his bros, Modo walked up the road and went into the store.

About fifteen minutes later, he walked out again, carrying two shopping bags. Karma raised an eyebrow at him. "Take your time."

"Sorry."

"What'd she say?"

Modo looked down. "Ah didn't ask her."

Karma stood there for ages, seemingly out of sheer disbelief. "I'm sorry. I thought you just said you didn't ask her."

"No, ma'am."

"And why the fuck not?"

"Ah didn't know what to say," Modo said quietly. "She's only a baby; ah cain't talk to a liddle girl la'ake that."

Karma rolled her eyes maliciously. "'How you doin' this afternoon'? 'I didn't know they employed such little hotties around here'? 'Tell me, have you seen any Rats lately'? 'I'm just lookin' for an old buddy of mine'? Did that spring to mind?"

"No, ma'am."

"For God's sake." Karma glared at him. "Do you wanna find Mace or not?"

"Yes."

"_Then ask the freaking question, you cretin_." Karma shook her head. "We can't go in again – she'll know something's up. Heaven _help_ me." She stormed back down the road and they rode out of town in silence.

* * *

They checked into a little motel at sundown. The guy who owned the place took one look at Karma and immediately gave them a three-bedroom cabin with a phone for half-price. Karma put $100 on the counter without a word and walked back out the lobby and across the carpark to Room 18.

"How'd you do that?"

"Do what?"

"No questions. No fake name or anything."

"Don't need to." She glowered at Throttle. "See, this is why I hate working with other people. Especially rookies. They ask too many questions." She unlocked the door and threw the keys down on the kitchen bench. "Go fight over your rooms. Just don't think about bunking in with me." She walked out again to get her bag from her bike.

The guys looked at each other. _Utter bitch_, Vinnie mouthed. Modo just shook his head, still not fully recovered from the incident that afternoon. "Maybe she's right."

"Whaddya mean?"

"Karma knows what she's doin', Throttle. She's not nice about it, but she knows what she's doin'. We just pull her back."

"We've only been on this job for one day and you're thinkin' about turning in?" Vinnie was disgusted. "That's just what she wants. She did that to you because she _knew_ you wouldn't be up for interrogating a teenage shopgirl."

"And you're so good at readin' her?" Modo shot back. "You almost blew us in that bar back there."

"That was a fluke," Vinnie muttered. "How the Hell was I meant to know? She's a sadistic cow who can't –"

"Somethin' about me?" Karma walked back in, bag over her shoulder.

"Of course not," Vinnie said acidly.

"Oh, go sulk in your room," she snapped. "Don't bitch behind my back."

"You'd prefer a bitch to your face?"

"Go for it." Karma gave him a grim smile. "I truly don't give a shit." She continued walking across the living room and threw her bag in one of the bedrooms. "I didn't want this job. But I don't have a choice anymore." She rummaged through her bag. "You boys aren't gonna want to hang around for much longer anyhow."

"Wanna bet?"

Karma stood framed on the doorway. "You think this is just like war? It's not. You can't go blazing after Mace in a burst of light. If you did that, someone would kill you. This thing just isn't your style, OK? So maybe it would be better for all of us if you just toddle back to Carbine and teach the cadets how to blow something up." She marched into the bathroom and locked the door tightly. A few seconds later, they could hear the shower running.

Vinnie was seething. "What the _Hell_ does she know?" He stormed off to his room.

Throttle sighed. "She's gonna be a real headache to work with."

"She's gonna try as hard as possible." Modo looked at him steadily. "She really don't want us here, bro."

"I hadn't noticed."

He shrugged. "Just stating the obvious."

Throttle considered Vinnie as he paced in and out of sight through his bedroom door. "I don't think I'll be able to live with the Vin-man muttering to himself all night. I'll bunk with you."

"Totally cool with me. Vinnie's taking this personally."

"I know." Throttle dumped his bag in the next room. "Someone had better talk to Karma before he goes and does something drastic."

"After you."

Throttle had to smile. "It's good to be with you guys again, y'know."

Modo grinned at him. "You need a break from Carbine. This'll be a good distraction."

"I hope so." _Coz Karma's enough for two Carbines in a foul mood_.

* * *

Karma walked out of the bathroom in a tank top and slacks. Her hair was out and Throttle couldn't help stealing a glance. He loved long hair on women.

Karma yawned and ignored them, walking back to her room. Clearly a hot shower had been the best thing to put her in a better mood – at least she wasn't roaring at them anymore. Her hair was down to her waist. He would have thought that a woman like her would have cut it ruthlessly short and not care.

All of a sudden, the phone rang. The guys jumped, but Karma had clearly been waiting for it. "She's late." She put the phone on speaker. "Room 18, who's speaking?"

"It's your General." It was Carbine.

Karma looked overjoyed. "Oh my _God_! Carbine, I was gonna call you _exactly_ when you just did! Isn't that just so _weird_? It's been _aaaaaages_ – how the _Hell_ are you?"

Carbine was very frosty. "Karma, straighten yourself out. I'm ringing in relation to your assignment."

"That's so nice of you, Carbine. I'm glad you care."

"Can we be sensible, please? The walls have ears."

"Totally." Karma was nodding excitedly. "I know exactly what you mean. Mace could be listening in right at this very moment and could find out that I, Karma Supersede, am on his trail as we speak. And it's just so possible that he's capable of tapping the phone line of a military base posing as a motel. And –"

"_For God's sake_!" Carbine paused to take a calming breath. "Look. This might be more serious than you think."

"Give me a reason to be paranoid and I'll use as many codenames as you want."

"I _can't_. It's… its just _dangerous_ out there now, even more so than when the Plutarkians were here." When Karma didn't reply, Carbine sighed. "Fine. Do you have any leads on the subject?"

"Who, Mace? Yeah, I've got him right here. Hey Mace, you wanna talk to Carbine?"

"Karma." Carbine's voice was low. "You're being an idiot."

"Takes one to know another, chuckle-chops. Is it standard military procedure to ask really, really stupid questions? Because you just capped it, I think." Karma leaned against the bench, totally relaxed. "We've only been gone for _one day_, woman. I haven't even got my contacts yet."

"You're being very unprofessional."

"Don't talk to me about professional, Carbine. You bullied your way through the government to get that law passed when I said no to this job. Yeah, that's real professional. You're so professional at feeding bullshit to people."

"It was the only way."

"Only way for what? Is Harley so much more important than the rest of the Mice who've been kidnapped and sold into the black market?"

Carbine gritted her teeth. "Look, I know you're upset. But Harley's family asked for you specifically."

"So did every other family with a member missing. And some of those people have a lot more hope at being found than she does."

"Karma –"

Karma leaned in very close to the receiver, venom bleeding from her tone like an open wound. "I've got a proposition for you, Carbine. How about I call _you_ when I get a lead? Coz all you're really going to be doing is jacking up your phone bill. Good, I'm glad we had this chat. Have a good night." She pressed the 'End' button on the phone. Then she reached behind the phone and pulled the line out. "Ring all you want, baby. I've had more than enough of you for a week."

Throttle felt a hot flame of dislike. Carbine was only trying to do her job, for crying out loud. He knew how hard she worked and how much she cared about this case. And Karma as just shoving it all back in her face.

"Do you have to be so sarcastic? Carbine's right – you're not professional."

"What are you, her boyfriend or something?" Karma randomly threw him a glance as she paced back across the room – and she caught the expression on his face. "Oh."

Throttle didn't say anything. Karma spun around on her toes and gave them a truly beautiful smile. "Great. So I've got in idiot-arsehole crossbreed who can't keep his mouth shut –" she pointed to Vinnie. "I've got a farmboy lug who can't keep his mouth _open_ –" she jabbed a finger at Modo. "_And_ I've got Carbine's lover man, who has a broken heart where his balls should be. You know what? I've got a _great_ feeling about this team. We got chemistry, y'know? It's a chemistry that stinks really bad and sparks new ideas in my mind."

She went back into her room and came out with her wallet. She pulled out a slip of paper, pinning it down to the coffee table with one finger. "This is my deposit for doing this job. It's a cheque for $5,000. Now, if you take this to the bank and cash it in to the nice bank lady, you should get $1,666 _each_. OK? No fighting." Her voice had adopted a tone that might be used to address a dangerously slow child. "So I'm going to leave this cheque on the table, because I don't really want it anymore, and I'm going to go to bed… and when I wake up tomorrow, I don't want to see it or any of you guys within a 50-mile radius of this town. Because I work a lot better alone, and two of you have already proved that you're not up for this today."

She stalked across the room and paused at her bedroom door. "Night. Have a good life." She closed the door firmly.

* * *

There we _go_, chilluns. Be happy and prosperous and bask in the glory of it all! Midnight stories! _Huzzah_! 

Civil apologies to all the Carbine fans out there. Hope I haven't issued myself a death sentence. I just never liked her during the series – dude, she didn't even trust her own boyfriend when he was wrongly convicted of working with stinkfish. That's just… not what nice girls do.

Anyhoo… be cool. Bribe me into Chapter Three with an R and an E with a V and an I-E-W.

Heart y'all. This one's for you, Evie. I love you.

Mad-Eyed Owl


	3. Girl in a Bad Mood

_Whoo_! More reviews! Mad-Eyes is a very happy chappie.

I'm going to be busier very soon, so the chapters won't be happening in such quick succession. Just to give you all early warning. I wouldn't want my adoring public to think that I'd abandoned them or anything.

Have fun with the story, kids. We're onto Chapter Three: A Girl in a Bad Mood.

Hope thee enjoys.

* * *

Throttle woke up slowly. God, he had no idea what time it was. He reached for his specs and the world unfurled before him.

It was 8:23.

_Crap_.

He sat up quickly and saw that Modo was already gone. _This is not good, this is not good_. He wasn't one to prophesise, but he was fairly sure that Karma wasn't the kind of person who let sleeping dogs lie. She'd kick them in the ribs and scream abuse to wake them up.

He swung out of bed and pulled on his jeans, struggling to do them up as he danced out of the bedroom. He fully expected a seething Karma to be waiting for him with arms akimbo, but she wasn't there. Her bedroom door was still shut.

"Mornin', bro." Modo was frying gemsbok bacon in the kitchen. "You hungry?"

"Always. Where's Karma?"

Modo looked back at Karma's bedroom door. "Don't think she's up yet." He slid a plate towards him. "Ah went out and bought this earlier. It's fresh."

Throttle hunted for a knife and fork. "You went back into town?"

"Nah, just went to the front desk. The lady there was real nice – she sold it to me for half-price."

Throttle took a mouthful and sighed. He'd missed gemsbok bacon on Earth – dead pigs just didn't compete. "I didn't think that Karma would be a late riser."

"Neither did ah." Modo spared a glance at her door. "You wanna knock?"

"Do you?"

"Ah'll pass."

Throttle was just finishing off his breakfast when Vinnie came scrambling out of his bedroom, hopping as he tried to pull one boot on. "Shit, shit, shit…"

Throttle raised an eyebrow. "You're edgy."

"I don't want the Existential Bitch chewin' on my arse." He looked around, boot still in hand. "Where is she?"

"Dunno. I think she's still asleep." Throttle pointed to Karma's bedroom door.

Vinnie frowned as he sat down at the kitchen table. "You sure?"

"Well, where else would she be?" Throttle suddenly stopped chewing as he realised what he'd just said. Vinnie's eyes were boring into him like twin lava pits. Modo had temporarily stopped frying bacon.

Without a word Vinnie got up and marched over to Karma's door. He knocked loudly, waited two seconds, then flung it open and walked inside.

Throttle closed his eyes. _Oh, no_.

"_Shit_!" Vinnie stormed back from her bedroom. "She's _gone_!"

"She is not." _I knew she would be_.

"Fucking _bitch_…" Vinnie snatched a scrap of paper off the table. "And she's left the cheque."

"Effective enough for a goodbye note." Throttle stood up. "If that's the case, I think we're late for check-out."

* * *

Vinnie was intent on arguing with the landowner at the desk who had checked them in last night and interrogating him about where Karma had gone. The man only looked at him emptily over the counter. "Don't know who yer talkin' 'bout."

"Karma. Karma Supersede. She was staying here just last night!"

"Vinnie, forget it. He's not going to talk."

Vinnie stormed out and threw himself over Sweetheart, who grumbled at him warningly.

"What do we do now?" Modo wondered.

"We've got to track her." Throttle leaned on Lady, arms folded.

"Are you out of your mind?" Vinnie was too pissed off to be rational. "You've got no chance of finding her now! She's gone! _Finito_! End of search! Why do we even want to find the bitch anyway?"

"That's exactly what she wants us to do, Vinnie. She wants us to go home. But I for one want to find Harley, and if I remember Mace the right way, Karma definitely won't be able to get her hands on him by herself. Even if she is as good as she says."

Vinnie looked at him through narrow red eyes. "How do you propose to find her, anyway?"

"She's looking for Mace. That we know. And she'll be due east, because that's the route that was assigned to her. So let's go east."

"Why do you think we even need her? We can do this on our own!"

"Because Karma knows things that we don't. And I'd rather work with her than behind her. You want to find Harley, don't you? Karma does too."

And just for once, Vinnie didn't argue.

* * *

They took the eastern route and followed it all day. The road was narrow and occasionally pitted with mine-holes, and there was only a vast expanse of sand and rock on either side. The guys knew that the roadsides would also probably secrete mines, and they tried to keep to the centre as often as possible. Throttle could figure why Mace would come this way. There was nobody here to recognise him.

It was about two o'clock in the afternoon before they sighted a town in the distance. As they approached, the road smoothed out. A brightly painted sign appeared on the horizon: _Utopia 12_.

"Great." Karma would have definitely stopped here. Utopias were a new initiative from the government – they were basically large groups of refugees who had been given the resources to build their own town. The populations in utopias were extremely diverse and they'd probably be boiling over with information.

They rode into Utopia 12 without a glitch – a lot of utopias had security at the entrances, but this one seemed fairly laid-back. It was smaller than most other towns, but it was packed with people. Most of the buildings were made sparingly, with tarpaulins as roofing and mudbricks for the walls. The roads were narrow and only made of compacted red dust – the traffic parted like magic as the guys rode through. Throttle could feel their eyes picking him apart as he rode slowly past. Vinnie basked in the attention.

"Stop preening, Vincenzo."

"What can I say? They love me."

"They're scared if you, is what." Modo cut him a reproving eye. "They don't know who we are. Strangers are dangers in this place."

"Meaning they'll have noticed Karma as well." Vinnie smirked at his own cleverness. "Pretty lady like her would stick out."

"Unlike yourself, mugface."

"I'll have you know that I am _gorgeous_."

Throttle suddenly dived for the kerb. "Pull up!"

They did so and Throttle pulled his helmet off. "I think we just found a place to start lookin'."

"Where?"

"The pub." Throttle pointed over the road.

The pub was probably one of the largest buildings in Utopia 12, but that wasn't significant. It was raised off the ground by stone pillars to let the heat escape, and was more or less a salvaged house that was patched over with hard clay where the wood had rotted out. The other buildings – a three-level block of apartments to the left and a bike repairs shop to the right – skirted around it nervously, leaving wide alleyways on either side. The slum huts behind it pressed forward eagerly, separated by corrugated tin partitions posing as fencing.

Modo eyed it sceptically. "Don't look like much."

"I got the impression that Karma always asks questions at a pub, being of the opinion that a bartender never forgets a customer. Let's test that theory."

Modo smiled. "I'm with ya there."

They parked their bikes outside the pub and swaggered in, heading straight for the bar. The pub was packed with people of all kinds, and they all took the time to run an eye over these newcomers. The barmaid appeared out of thin air and pounced at them. "Can I help you boys?" She was very young, maybe sixteen, and sweet-looking. Too pure to be part of this dump.

"You seen a pretty lady around here, long blonde hair, about so high?" Modo held his hand up about bicep-height. "She's got a scar on her chin and she'll probably be in a really bad mood."

The barmaid considered. "Well… I did see a lady with a scar. Blonde. She was askin' about Rats."

_Theory proved_. "That's her." Throttle leaned forward. "Do you know where she went?"

The girl looked him up and down suspiciously. "Why would I tell you?"

"We've just got some business with her." _Don't tell her too much_.

The barmaid raised an eyebrow. "Oh yeah?" Suddenly she wasn't nearly as cute as she looked. "Of what sort?"

"It's private." Throttle pressed on.

The barmaid smiled pleasantly. "That so?" She raised her voice. "Hear that? These guys have got _private business_ with a pretty lady."

Every single person in the pub turned around and looked at them in a manner that was much, much less than polite. Throttle could see a few twitches as people started to raise their hackles. Utopias were sanctuaries for anyone who wanted to live there, and if someone was being hunted or stalked, the utopian citizens were usually more than happy to send any antagonists on their merry, bruised-up way. Right now, the only impression that Throttle and the guys had given was that they were a trio of sleazebags hassling a woman who had probably fled to Utopia 12 for some safety.

Throttle realised he was going to have to come up with a very good story. _Shit. Shit. Um_…

"She's my girlfriend." Throttle even surprised himself. The barmaid raised her other eyebrow smoothly.

"And what's she doin' here?"

Throttle racked his brain. "Her mother was killed by a Rat two months ago. She's just… sort of lost her mind, and she's gone on a vendetta looking for him. She's already tried to hurt someone and I just need to get her home." He did his best to look pained. God. That had to be the worst story ever.

By a miracle, the girl actually looked convinced. Even better – she looked genuinely appalled. "Oh my God. I'm so sorry."

"Look, we just need to find her." Vinnie was the epitome of concern. "Do you know where she went?"

Throttle stole a glance around. The pub residents still had their eyes on him, but they had relaxed somewhat. He tried not to feel bad when he realised that they were used to stories like this. Something that he might find far-fetched was part of everyday life for all of them.

The barmaid was still chattering on. "I think she's staying in town. I saw her ride out, and she took the road that goes past here, not back out onto the highway. My God, that's awful. What's her name?"

Throttle went blank. "Pop." She was bound to realise he was lying with a name like that. But she didn't.

"You tell Pop to get home as soon as possible." The barmaid wrote down an address and handed it to him. "This is the only inn we have. She'll probably be there. Besides, this is a small place – you'll be able to ask around for her. Is she gonna be OK?"

"We need to find her first." Throttle had a gut feeling that he'd just hit it really lucky – it couldn't be as easy as this. "What's your name?"

"Wary." The barmaid smiled.

_Girl, you do NOT live up to your name_. "I'll tell Pop what you said." He put the address in his pocket. "Thanks for that."

"It's no problem." Wary smiled again. "Good luck."

* * *

They found the inn easily – it was right on the edge of town, leading back towards the highway. It had clearly been there for much longer than the rest of Utopia 12 – it had a sort of graceful architecture to it that the rest of the town lacked. Bullet marks and laser scorches patterned the outer protective walls and Throttle realised that it probably hadn't always been an inn. As they got closer, they saw trenches dug around it, still not filled in. It was an ex-army base.

For all that they lacked in resources, the utopian citizens had gone to great lengths to restore the place. It probably brought in no money for them, but these people were full of hope – and they were probably hoping that they might be able to use it properly in the future.

They rode through the gates and found themselves in a small circular courtyard, surrounded by about eight cabins stilted off the hot ground and complete with verandas and sliding doors. A ninth building, little more than a demountable metal booth, stood to the side with a handpainted sign reading "Reception" balanced in front of it.

In front of one of the cabins was a small black and silver Sandskater, uncannily similar to the one that Karma rode. Throttle smiled to himself.

"Is that her bike?"

"Looks like it."

But when they checked, they found that the cabin that the bike was parked before was empty and locked. Doubt started to shadow in – Sandskaters were common models, especially out in areas like these. It could just as easily belong to someone else.

Vinnie turned to the reception booth and stuck his head inside the front window. "Hello? Anyone in?"

There was a scuffling sound, and a small child peeked at them in terror from behind the booth.

Vinnie smiled at him garishly. "Hi. Have you had a pretty blonde lady book in today?"

The kid narrowed his eyes. "Go 'way."

"Can you tell us? It's important."

"Go '_way_."

"Hey, it's OK –" Vinnie reached out, trying to calm the child down.

The kid screamed like the madness of Hell. "_NO! Ma-MAAAAAAAAA_!"

A woman with white fur tottered out onto one of the verandas next to the office. In her arms she carried a newborn baby wrapped in a muslin blanket; another child around eight or nine followed her, holding a second newborn. The woman's belly was still swollen from a recent pregnancy and her eyes looked exhausted. The babies looked like they were only a few days old.

The woman looked frazzled. "Jostle, keep your voice down! I only got the twins off to sleep." She squinted in the sun and saw the guys. "Oh –"

The kid called Jostle shot up the veranda steps and hid behind his mother. "They gonna tek me 'way! Make 'em go '_WAAAAAY_!"

The twins woke up consecutively and shrieked. The woman hushed the one in her arms, looking like she was about to cry. Jostle whimpered and gripped her leg.

The woman gazed at the guys in despair. "Can I help you?"

"Sorry for the bother, ma'am." Modo looked at her with deep concern. "We only need a room for one night."

"Yes. Fine. Take any one you want." The woman's voice was tight. The babies kept crying.

"Thankyou so much." Modo noticed two more little faces peering out from behind the curtains that fell over the doorway. "How old are your chilluns, ma'am?"

She paused. "These ones?" She glanced at the second child in the girl's arms. "They're five days old."

"Lordy." Modo looked at the girl at the woman's side. "You helpin' your Mama out, little lady?"

The girl gave him a gappy grin. "Yeth-thir." Her two front teeth had fallen out, giving her a lisp. She tried to correct herself. "They're called Hitch n' Heelick-th."

"Helix," the woman corrected automatically. The girl bobbed her head.

"They be real strong names, ma'am." Modo didn't know what else to say. His heart went out to her. The other guys could see her position just as well as he could – she was alone with six kids, two of them babies that she'd only just brought into the world.

Vinnie tried to be sensitive. "We'll pay extra, ma'am. For your trouble."

"You don't need to." The woman smiled. "We're alright."

Throttle cleared his throat. "You mind if we take our own keys?"

"Take your pick. They're all the same. Excuse me." She hurried the child called Jostle inside and closed the curtain.

The guys stood there for a moment, sinking in emotion. Then Vinnie said quietly, "We still don't know if Karma's staying here."

"Dammit."

"Should we –?"

"No. Don't bother her again. She got enough on her hands." Modo reached inside the booth through the window and unhooked a set of keys from the rack.

He got the fright of his life when he realised one of the children was still there. A little girl with fur as grey as his own and soft black eyes stared up at him from the floor of the booth. She clutched a mousebear in her arms.

"Hello." He said it more out of surprise than anything else.

She blinked once, long lashes trembling. "I can't…" the rest of her words were lost in her silky breath.

"Say again? Ah can't hear you."

She said it again, but this time it was only a whisper in the wind.

"Speak up, sweetheart."

"_I'm locked in_." Her voice was tearful. "I hid n' de door locked."

"Oh." Modo paused. "Well, d'you want me to get you out?"

She nodded.

"OK." He hesitated. "Stand up, then."

She stood up and he lifted her out of the booth through the window, setting her down on the ground. She hugged the mousebear to her chest and gazed at his face in childish fascination and fear.

"Are alright?" Modo asked her.

She nodded.

"What's yer name?"

The little girl murmured something too soft for him to hear. "Say again?"

"_My name's Angel_."

Modo's heart melted. "That's a real pretty name."

"Mama say I look like one."

"She's right."

Angel looked at Modo solemnly. "Are you lukkin' fer a lady?"

"A lady with golden fur. Does she own that bike?"

"Golden lady." The girl pointed towards the Sandskater. "Went fer walk. She sleepin' here. She got pretty fur." Angel plucked at the velvety down on her arm. "Like shiny rings."

Modo was impressed. "How old are you, Angel?"

"Four." She produced a miniscule hand to hold up four fingers.

"You're mighty big for four. Are you sure you're not older?"

She giggled at him. "I'm stwong."

"Ah can see that."

"An' I can draw."

"You wanna show me later?"

"Yeah. Later." She scuttled up the steps and smiled at him. "Bye-bye." She vanished behind the curtain.

Modo jigged the keys in his hand, watching after her. "Angel, huh?" He smiled to himself. "Ah love kids."

"Don't go clucky on us now, big guy." Throttle was thinking. "Didn't that woman say all the keys were the same?"

"Yep." Modo nodded. "They'd probably open all the doors of the cabins."

"What say we wait in Karma's cabin and see if she comes back? Surprise her and all."

"Oh, ah think she'd love that, bro. Let's do that."

They parked their bikes on the other side of the courtyard so Karma's suspicions wouldn't be roused, and then attempted to unlock the door to her cabin. It worked – the woman hadn't been lying, all the keys fitted all the locks. Throttle wondered briefly if she ever worried about being robbed, but as soon as he saw the interiors of the cabins that notion of theft was quashed. There was virtually nothing worth stealing.

The cabins were sparse. The furniture didn't match and there was very little of it to begin with, but it was comfortable enough. There were two couches with one lamp-stand in the living room, and that was it. The kitchen was equally bare – tiny fridge, sink and a set of cupboards on the wall. And the bedroom only had a double-bed that was made up meticulously to hide the lumps in the mattress.

They waited for two and a half hours, vengefully raiding the fridge and lazing around the living room. At five, there were footsteps on the veranda. A key slid into the lock and the key-holder tried to turn it, but it was already ajar. There was a pause, and then door slid open and sure enough, Karma stepped in, eyes downcast, looking very tired. She closed the door behind her and looked up.

"_Holy_ shit –!"

Her first move was to reach under her jacket and produce a small silver Derringer. Vinnie raised his eyebrows. "I thought you said you didn't carry weaponry, sweetheart."

"How the _fuck_… what…?" Karma turned and looked at the lock. Poked it suspiciously, flipped it up and down to see if it was working. "_How_ did…?"

"Well, you weren't courteous enough to leave us a key," Throttle murmured. She met his eyes squarely. "Or were you just in a hurry?"

Karma opened her mouth, and then closed it. She put the Derringer back under her jacket. "I told you to take the money."

"We didn't." Modo sat back comfortably. "We decided you needed it."

"How gentlemanly," Karma muttered, half to herself. She threw the keys on the lamp-stand next to the couch and stood there, hands on pendulum hips. She seemed to be getting her bearings – her eyes twitched over them doubtfully, as though she was trying very hard to convince herself they were actually there.

Abruptly, she sat down next to Throttle. "God, I need a smoke." She pulled a packet of cigarettes and a lighter out of her back pocket. Her first drag sucked her cheeks in and she blew out too quickly to calm down.

She rubbed her forehead with the heel of her hand. "How did you find me?" she asked quietly.

"We ain't as dumb as we look, Miss Karma."

"Sure." She looked at him sidelong. "You just asked Flag."

"Who's Flag?"

Karma didn't reply. She sat forward and leaned her elbows on her knees, hands hanging limply towards the floor. "God help me. Are you telling me you tracked me all the way through town?"

"Looks like it."

Karma closed her eyes and took another drag on her smoke, seeming to relish holding the haze in her chest. "OK…"

"Maybe you should smoke outside," Vinnie suggested.

"Fuck off, White-Fur. I can smoke wherever I want."

"Except near smoke alarms." Vinnie pointed at the ceiling.

Karma narrowed her eyes at the smoke detector and shaped her hand into a gun. _Pow_. Then she got up and walked back out onto the veranda. "Leave the door open. The smoke might drift out."

Throttle followed her. She was leaning on the supporting beam of the veranda, eyes closed. He went to stand next to her.

"So, Miss Tracker."

"Look." Karma turned her head to look into his eyes. "Maybe you're not as dumb as I thought. Alright, I appreciate that and I apologise. But you're still not coming with me."

"Jeez, woman." Throttle couldn't help it. She was so _frustrating_.

"I'll handle this much better on my own."

"You say that a lot, Karma." Throttle considered her. "Why?"

"Because it's true." She nibbled on the end of her cigarette. "I don't do compromises. I've never worked with a partner because I know that we'd only end up screwing a job. I don't _do_ going up to a person and negotiating about our next move – if it's just me, then I can do things my way and it's faster. I have enough experience not to need a second opinion. And so far, my way has worked best for me." She glanced at him.

"You guys are smart, but you're still inexperienced. I'm gonna have to be coaching you and I don't have time for that. I'm well used to being by myself and I know you mean well, but it only takes one mistake."

Her cigarette had gone out. She looked at it and muttered to herself as she threw it off the veranda. "I gave you the money. Don't you want it?"

"Frankly? No."

"What do I need to offer you? Sex?"

"Karma. We're not leaving."

"Uh-huh." She chuckled then, and it sent a shiver down his spine. There was something about it that was so harsh, but so _sexy_. She smiled at him. "I can see I'm gonna have to find another drum to beat."

Throttle rolled his eyes. "Suppose that we did leave you to it. At least take us out to dinner."

Karma gave him a black look. "Why?"

"Well, you gotta spend that $5000 cheque sometime. And we did all that work to find you."

Karma blinked twice. "I'll take you for a drink. Go beg your own dinner."

"I think that's as far as I'm going to get."

"Hell yeah it is." She turned back inside. "Hey, minions! You want a drink?"

Vinnie shot outside. "Was the Existential Bitch just offering me a drink?"

"Yeah, the Existential Bitch was just offering Snow-Balls a drink. Call me that again and I'll make sure the 'balls' part of the equation will be questionable at best."

"Totally fine by me, girl. So what was that about a drink?"

Karma sighed. "_Alright_. We'll go to the pub. I'll buy you all a drink. And then you have to leave."

"We'll think about it." Throttle smiled pleasantly.

"Hmph. Better than last time, at least. C'mon."

* * *

They rode back to the pub and parked outside, strolling in. The barmaid called Wary was still there – she took one look at them and gushed "Oh my God." Her eye fell on Karma. "Hi."

Karma went with it, smiling back. "Hey."

"Are you OK?" Wary leaned forward. "You need a drink or anything?"

Karma tilted her head to one side. Wary kept babbling. "Your boyfriend told me all about your mother. I'm so sorry. I got no Mama myself and I know _exactly_ –"

A small frown was forming on Karma's face and she tilted her head to the other side. Throttle realised he had to intervene. "Uh, Pop? Yeah, I told Wary here about your Mama and all… and the Rat who killed her."

Karma didn't even blink. "Ah. That explains a bit." She smiled properly. "I'll be OK, Wary."

"You sure? Any of you guys want a drink? You got a mighty dedicated man if he's willin' to chase you far n' wide." Wary dived for the glass rack and filled up three beers. "On the house, fellas."

Karma turned her smile to Throttle. "I'm just lucky, I guess."

They sat at the bar and Wary scampered off to serve the rest of the bar's residents. The second she was gone Karma turned and gave them all a bemused expression. "You made up a story?" she murmured under her breath.

"Improvisation. She told us where you might have gone."

"No shit. My Mama was killed by a Rat?" She pulled out her cigarettes again and lit up.

"Yep."

"And I take it I'm searching high and low to wreak vengeance on aforementioned Rat."

"Yep."

"And she believed you."

"Yep."

Karma actually laughed. "You got real lucky, y'know. Happened across the naïve barmaid with a heart that's too big, but that's not bad. That's not bad at all."

"Yep." Throttle took a throatful of beer. "Cheers, Miss Tracker."

"Here's to you, Mister Wordsmith and Co." She raised her cigarette in a salute.

The pub, if possible, was even more packed than before. Most of the residents were men, and most of the beverages were beer. Karma didn't touch any alcohol – she seemed content with her smokes. She didn't seem to notice that a lot of people were slipping her glances and running their eyes up and down her body. Throttle didn't blame them. A beautiful creature deserved attention.

"So, where are you guys goin' after this?" Karma was keen to see them go.

"Dunno. Where the wind blows us."

"And ya never know – the wind might just blow us your way." Modo smiled at her charmingly.

Karma closed her eyes. "Have I not explained this?"

"Yep. It's not happenin', Miss Karma."

Karma took a very stressed drag on her ciggie and said nothing.

"Hey Karma." Vinnie nudged her. "Some guy's givin' you the eye."

"Lots of guys are givin' me the eye, Vinnie. Admit it – I'm gorgeous."

"Did you dump this one? Coz he looks less than pleased."

Karma raised her head derisively to look, and made eye contact with a guy across the room. He was sitting with a group of men, leaning in towards them as though to converse in secret, but his eyes were glued on Karma with an evil sort of intensity.

Karma froze and dropped her cigarette on the bar surface. "Oh."

"You know him?"

She was silent.

"What?" Was she scared? She looked different. Her eyes were somehow smaller, her back not as straight.

Karma leaned forward. "You know a lady named China Blasko?"

The guys raised their eyebrows. China Blasko was an infamous hostage-taker who held up a military base about five years ago and killed thirty-four people. She escaped, but was tracked down and was given a life sentence in prison. "Who doesn't?"

"I'm the one who put her in prison. See the guy over there right now? His name is Grenade Blasko. He's her husband." Karma was very quiet. "Let's go."

Vinnie was agog. "_You_ put China Blasko in prison?"

"_I'm leaving now_," Karma hissed, rising from her seat. She pulled out her wallet, left $20 on the bar and hurried for the door.

The second she got to her feet, Grenade Blasko rose from his seat. His posse followed him, and they almost charged across the pub to follow her.

"Shit." The guys knew immediately that this was going to get nasty. They followed as well.

It was already dark outside. Karma had tried to make for her bike, but Grenade's posse had herded her into the left-hand alleyway next to the pub. They formed a wall, shoulder to shoulder, as Grenade slunk towards Karma with a sickening overconfidence. Karma stood very, very still.

Grenade's wide face looked as though it had faced a fair share of fights. "You know I wish China was here, whore." His teeth were broken and yellow.

"I'm sure you do." Karma was trembling. "But China's been a bad girl."

Grenade lunged. Karma turned side-on and raised her arms in a block. As he slammed into her, she rolled with it – the momentum sent him stumbling onwards. Karma kicked him viciously from behind. He fell even further.

Grenade rolled on the ground and pulled out a knife. He sliced the air with it, trying to back Karma into a corner. "China would have loved to be here," he sang to her. "China would have loved to have speared your bitches' heart."

"China can go spear her own instead." Grenade's swipes and stabs were wide – he'd been drinking, and his movements weren't as close to Karma as he could have liked. He lost his temper and leapt at her, knife raised. Karma braced herself, rolled with his lunge again, and then at the last second snatched his knife from his drunken fingers, spun on her toes and neatly drove it into the back of his thigh.

The guys couldn't see what was happening, but they heard Grenade scream and thought it was Karma. Modo went berserk and smashed his way through the barrier created by Grenade's posse with a roar. For just a second, Grenade's posse splintered and Karma dived for the alleyway entrance, trying to remember how to whistle for her bike.

Then someone fired a gun.

And Karma staggered.

The guys reacted out of pure instinct. Throttle and Vinnie turned, primed their blasters and fired back. Modo covered for Karma as she flattened herself against the wall, his eye blazing.

Grenade's crew scattered at the first replying shots. Grenade stayed put, howling. "_You think I'm skeered of fire? Do you_?"

Modo raised his arm and fired into the pub wall to Grenade's right. The wall exploded and rained down debris. The posse scattered instantly, speeding up when Throttle and Vinnie took pot-shots at their heels. Engines roared as bikes were gunned, and the mob streamed away from the front of the pub. They'd just drawn blood in a utopia town. That was never smart.

Karma was shaking. "Shit a brick," she croaked. "You're dangerous, Modo."

Modo retracted his cannon. "Comes in handy sometimes, Miss Karma."

"Don't ever do that again."

"Ah'll try."

Throttle and Vinnie jogged back towards them. Throttle noticed that Karma was holding her left shoulder. "Shit. Are you alright?"

Karma grinned at him. "Heh-heh." Then he realised she wasn't grinning. She was grinding her teeth in pain. "Not so good."

Her jacket was turning dark around her shoulder. "We need to get you to a hospital."

"No hospital for a hundred miles." Karma stepped forward. "They gone?"

"Skedaddled like chickens."

"You boys didn't have to do that." She peered at the wreckage of the wall. "Seemed to work, though."

Throttle wasn't sure if that was a thankyou or not.

The pub door burst open and the whole contents of the pub flooded out. _Holy fuck, are you guys alright? We heard guns… Sweet Lordy of all Love… shit me, are you OK?… oh God, where are they_?

Throttle raised his voice. "It's OK, folks. Just had a bit of trouble."

A large bruiser with very dark fur was at the front of the crowd. "Are you alright? Looks like it got a bit bloody out here."

"We got mugged." Karma crept out of the shadows.

"Where'd they go? Holy… what the fuck happened to the wall?" The bruiser gazed at the side of the pub in utter disbelief.

Modo went red. "Sorry 'bout that. Jus' tryin'a protect the lady."

"You did a good job, man." The bruiser's eye fell on Karma again, and he spied her shoulder. "Or maybe not."

Karma smiled. "If it wasn't for him, it would've been worse."

"Those muggers hurt you, lady?"

Karma nodded. "But not badly."

"Any blood is 'badly'." The bruiser turned around. "Alright, let's get a search team out! Find the guys who hurt this lady and bring 'em back for a little talk. We can't have people wanderin' around like that." About twenty men peeled away and hurried for their bikes.

The bruiser turned back to Karma. "Let's see that shoulder, lady."

"I don't think it's as bad as it looks." She lifted her hand off her shoulder to look at the blood flow and promptly slapped it on again. "I'll have a med assessment back at the inn."

"I don't think so, lady. You're pretty roughed up."

Karma looked at the bruiser's face calmly. "I'm glad you care. But I'm not going to a hospital. If it's really bad, I'll get the local GP to have a look."

The bruiser frowned. "Are you sure?"

"I have these three guys lookin' after me." Karma smiled at them lovingly. "It's OK. If we need help we'll come straight to you."

The bruiser considered her and the guys carefully. "Alright. If you have any trouble, you go straight for help. We'll catch those guys who mugged you. They take anything from you?"

"I don't have anything to take."

The bruiser nodded and headed away for his own bike. "You take care, lady."

Karma nodded and started for her own bike. Modo stopped her. "Miss Karma, y –"

"I know how to look after myself, Modo. It's not sugar, but it's not dirt either." She smiled wryly then, like she was resigning herself to an unavoidable fate. "I actually need you boys now. Or until I get out of town. Cover my back n' all."

So it was a thankyou. Throttle smiled inwardly.

Modo's torment was evident on his face. Karma rolled her eyes. "If it makes Mister Fretful happy, you can bandage my shoulder."

Modo nodded. Karma sighed through her nose. "OK. Back to the room." She smiled at them over her shoulder. "C'mon, _boys_."

* * *

The bullet had surged past her tricep and had blown out again through her shoulder slope. It wasn't a puncture wound, but more of a deep graze – _not sugar, but not dirt_. Her skin had ripped, exposing red-brown sinew that was twitching anxiously. Her golden fur had turned a sticky maroon.

Karma inspected it coolly on the couch, her jacket on the floor and her top and bra slid off her shoulder. "He wasn't a good shot, was he?"

"Not as good as he could have been."

"Feh. I'll be alright. I've gone through worse."

Modo got out the medical kit from the back of his bike. She watched him, eyeing the contents of the kit as he sifted through them.

"You're well prepared."

"Spot-fixes. Just in case." Vinnie leaned on the doorway, arms folded. "We had plenty of practice on Earth."

"Maybe more'n was good for us." Modo offered her a pressure pad. He was smiling to himself.

Karma noticed. "What?"

"Nothin', Miss Karma. You might wanna use that."

She took it and pressed it hard against her arm. "What's so –?"

She never got to finish her question – it was swallowed by a howl of pain. "_Argh_! _Motherf_ –!" She threw the bloodied pressure pad onto the floor and stared at it wildly. "What the fuck _is_ this thing?"

"Gauze. Woven fr'm tea-tree fibres." Modo looked smug. "Best pick it up, Miss Karma. It's the only antiseptic we got."

Karma shook her head. "One of your buddies can do it." Karma reached for the nearest cushion. "I'll only throw it off again." She hugged the cushion to her chest with her good arm and looked at Throttle expectantly. "Care to do the honours?"

Throttle picked up the gauze pad and held it to her shoulder. Karma hissed and sank her teeth into the cushion.

Modo began to bind her arm from elbow to shoulder, pressing the pad even harder against her flesh. Tears gathered at the corners of her eyes as she wrenched her head back and forth, trying her best to stop herself screaming. The tea-tree oil burned into her skin and muscle. The guys thought she actually handled it very well; from their experience, tea-tree oil redefined the meaning of pain. It was like having boiling acidic salt rubbed in your wounds.

"Leastways we know it won't get infected," Modo said cheerily. "Looks like you'll only git a scar."

Karma spat the cushion out and glared at Modo with bloodshot eyes. "You bastard. You should have warned me."

"You think _ah'm_ dangerous, Miss Karma." Modo eyed her off. "Do you realise what could have happened?"

"Yep. It could've been a lot, lot worse."

Modo raised his eyebrows. "You believe that?"

"Modo, Grenade has been looking for me ever since China was put in prison. He wants me to die." Karma looked at her shoulder as he tied the bandage off. "He wants me to be very, very dead."

Then, to everyone's surprise, she sat back and laughed. "OK. Alright. You win."

"Ah'm sorry, Miss Karma?"

"I think you know what I'm talking about." She smiled softly. "Don't make me say it – I've already been humiliated enough for one night."

"Ah think you might have to, Miss Karma, coz we don't know what you're talkin' 'bout."

"Alright. I owe you guys one. If you weren't there I'd probably be the aforementioned very, very dead." She looked at the cushion in her grasp. "Damn. I maimed a cushion."

"You want Angel's mousebear to hug?"

"Who?"

"Angel. One of the kids."

Karma considered. "I _think_ I'll pass. Just this once." She looked at them again, her eyes clear. "Thankyou."

"No problem."

"Anytime for a lady."

Karma tested the bandage by shifting her shoulder up and down. "Nice job."

"Practice."

"Uh-huh." She pulled out her cigarettes again. "Let's see if I can _finish_ a cigarette today without any interruptions."

"Those things ain't good for you, Miss Karma."

"Shut the fuck up, Modo. I just got shot. I need a reward." She wandered outside. After maybe a minute, Throttle followed her again.

She was sitting on the veranda steps, wrestling one-handed with the lighter. "Almost ten years of doin' this and I still can't do this one-handed," she muttered to herself. "Screw you, you whore…"

"So, Miss Tracker."

"We meet again." Karma smiled and fiddled with her lighter. "Could you do me a favour?"

He lit her cigarette for her. "Ta." She took a lungful of smoke. "Tell me something. Why is Vinnie so into this case?"

Throttle hesitated for a second. "What makes you say that?"

"The way he acts. He's so _passionate_. When I tell you all to piss off he's the first one to get angry." She smiled again. "Remember me mentionin' Flag? He's the guy who runs the inn we stayed in last night. He's an informant. The second you guys left he rang me to say the one with the white fur had gotten _real_ upset about me up-n'-outing."

"Vinnie's like that in general. He takes it to heart."

"No he wouldn't." Karma gazed at the night sky. "He'd deny it. He wouldn't get pissed – he'd get smart."

Throttle looked at her, amazed by the way she could read people. She glanced at him again with her dismissive indigo eyes. "You gonna tell me or not?"

"Before she was taken… it was him and Harley."

Karma's eyes expanded. She didn't say a word.

"It cut him pretty deep. They barely had any time together. Ever since then he's just thought he'd lost her. And now he has an opportunity to get her back."

Karma considered him carefully. "You all knew Harley, I take it."

"We went to school together. Then we went to cadets together. Then we went into the army together." Throttle shrugged. "We were all pretty close."

"I see." The tip of Karma's tongue was poised against her two front teeth. Throttle just had to look at her to know that her opinions of them were quickly being reshaped.

But how would he know if he'd only known her for two days?

They sat in silence after that; Karma pondered the stars as though deep in thought. She finished her cigarette and buried the stump in the sand.

"So you're all gonna follow me no matter what."

"Yep."

"And nothing I do – money, sex, drugs – is gonna sway you."

"Nup."

Karma sighed. "I hate workin' with partners."

"Why are we mentioning partners now?"

She snorted in contempt. "Don't get wise." She rubbed at the spot between her eyes. "OK. Here's the deal. You guys can play tag and come along with me. _However_ –" her eyes flamed. "If you screw up, I will really hurt you. You have to do exactly what I say, no matter what it is, because in this job you sometimes need to get your hands dirty. So no whingin', no nay-sayin', and don't you dare tell me what to do. Clear?"

"As mud."

She got up. "Tell your boys that. I'm goin' in my room to sulk. Jeez, the things I do for people," she mumbled as she walked back up the stairs.

Throttle could only smile. Because he knew, somehow, that Karma had secretly just developed a very new appreciation for them.

* * *

Ew.

My story is craptastic. I'll definitely be re-writing this chapter.

Chapter Four comin' soon, kids. Hope you liked it, in a limited way. Peace out Mad-Eyed Owl


	4. Sweet Talking

Hello, BABIES! Yeah, I'm back - just had to deal with several family crises and a certain DROUGHT in my country. Bah. Anyway. Yes, I'm back, and we have a new chapter. Hope you enjoy, love it, stroke it, review it. Yeah. All that stuff. Please note that Chapter Five could also be some time away.

But anyway. Let's not worry about such stuff and nonsense. HAVE A READ, MY CHICKENS!

* * *

They stayed in Utopia 12 for one more day. The big bruiser who had led the search team for Grenade the night before came in to check on them the next day, seeing how Karma was. Karma seemed very pleased that he'd showed up, because she led him inside and made him sit down, babbling on about how decent it was of him to come. He introduced himself as Anchor, the chief of Utopia 12. "We couldn't find your muggers, ma'am. Real shame that we didn't – they would've had a real talkin'-to after what they did."

Karma shrugged, and then winced at the movement of her shoulder. "Yeah – _ow_ – I prob'ly would've joined you."

"How's your shot, ma'am?"

"Don't know. Looks like its OK, but hey. It was only last night."

"Not infected," Modo added. "Might've done with a few stitches, but she's a stubborn lady."

Anchor leaned forward. "I got a question for you, ma'am." His eyes met Karma's easily. "That story about your mother – it sounds… interesting."

Karma's face blackened immediately. "Interesting ain't the best word you could use. You wouldn't be the first who didn't –"

Anchor held up his hands. "Easy, Miss Pop, easy up. We believe you, we all do – there's been similar cases goin' around and more than a few people here can relate to you. What would you say if I got some of my boys together and we helped you out? Only as far as the next main road. But I guess every little bit counts."

Karma almost smiled. "You're very decent."

"Anything for a lady." Anchor smiled back. "We help out anyone we can."

Karma sat back and thought. "I think we'll be OK."

"You sure?"

"I just need to get home. Issue a subpoena, all that."

Anchor nodded. "Wise choice, ma'am." He winked at Throttle. "I bet you had a word with her about that."

Throttle almost choked. "Y-yeah." Karma was smiling at him too, with venom in her eyes.

"Yeah, we had a talk last night." Throttle could tell that she _really_ didn't like pretending he was her boyfriend. "And we agreed."

Anchor nodded. "Well then, if you've agreed…" he got up. "If I don't see you, have a safe trip home."

"Thanks for coming." Karma got up too. "We appreciate it."

"Hope that arm gets better." Anchor waved to them and left.

The expression on Karma's face was enough. "Well, _shit_." She got up from her place on the couch and watched him leave on his bike. "That didn't go well."

"'Lots of similar cases goin' around…'"

"Shut up," she snapped at Throttle. He withdrew quietly.

Karma paced around the room, holding her shoulder. "Alright. Calm down. Think, girl." She closed her eyes and rubbed her shoulder obsessively. "I've started off badly. I'm being too hasty and I'm missing things."

"Our fault, I expect."

"Oh, I'm willing to let you take the blame." Throttle was learning that Karma always smiled her most beautiful smiles when she was annoyed. He found it so ironic.

Karma's tail flicked from side to side. "We can't stay here now. We've backed into a corner. Get your things and we'll go."

"What, now?"

"You got ten minutes." Karma stalked into her room and shut the door to wrestle her belongings one-handed into her bag.

* * *

They did as they were told and took ten minutes. Karma came out with her jacket on to hide her shoulder and dumped her bag on the back of her bike. "Anybody know what we owe the landowner?"

"Already asked. Seventy-nine."

"Jesus, that's too cheap. How's she gonna feed her kids?"

Vinnie shrugged. "I'm just sayin' what she told me."

Karma considered, then dismissed it. "Whatever. You boys be nice and pitch in." She pulled out a small envelope from her pocket. "I got twenty in there. You split the rest."

They did. Karma was gnawing on her lip as they put in their bit, her eyes narrowed. "Hang on. Do you boys still have that cheque?"

"Why? You want it back?"

"Yeah."

Vinnie was indignant. "_What_?"

"Well, I gave it to you so you'd go away. And considering you haven't pissed off yet, I want it back. Who has it?"

Vinnie glared at her. "That's just…"

"Give me the cheque, Vinnie."

Vinnie grumbled and fished out his wallet from his saddlebag. "Don't spend it all at once," he snapped as he handed her a piece of paper, folded once.

"Don't plan to." She pulled out a pen from her jacket and scrawled something on the back of the cheque, before opening the envelope with the accommodation money in it and stuffing the cheque inside. Then she sealed it. "She'll only try to give it back."

"What're you doing?"

Karma didn't reply. "Back in a sec." She walked across the courtyard towards the owner of the inn, who was sitting on the veranda breastfeeding one of the babies. They exchanged a few words, during which Karma handed her the envelope. Then she waltzed back down the steps and jogged back across the yard. "Time to go, boys." She pulled her helmet on and they wheeled out of the courtyard.

It wasn't until they were back on the main road, due east, before somebody said something.

"Miss Karma…"

"What?"

Modo's voice was low. "That was… that was real decent of you."

"Well, did you see how many kids she had? She needs to buy them some shoes." Karma brushed Modo off with well-practiced indifference.

Modo only smiled to himself.

* * *

The woman who owned the inn in Utopia 12 was called Apache. She had seven children under the age of nine and was a widow as of three months ago. Her husband, a local scouter, had been shot in a Sand Raider ambush by the side of the road. He had been coming home after spending six weeks scouring the country for the very Sand Raiders who killed him.

Apache had no money outside of the financial support given to her by the rest of the utopian citizens. She was very proud and hated taking charity, but when Longshot died she hadn't had any other choice. Her second-youngest child was a chronic asthmatic and couldn't even run without wheezing – he'd nearly died twice after he stopped breathing in his sleep, and had to be monitored all the time. The medical help available in Utopia 12 was limited to treating external wounds, and the cost of a doctor to come and visit was astronomical for her now that Longshot was gone. Everyone pitched in, but now it was even harder, especially when she had two new babies in the house.

When the woman with gold fur came in and brusquely asked for a room, Apache had been as accommodating as possible. _Is there anything you need? I'll get one of the kids to run down to the store if you want. Do you want to have dinner with us tonight? Is your bedroom OK_? She'd been so desperate to receive a customer that she was more than willing to grovel.

The woman was abrupt and bordered on rude. Feeling very deflated, Apache had gone back into her own cabin to be presented with a coughing toddler and a pair of howling babies. The twins didn't sleep and were poor feeders. Her oldest child Elation was only eight and had to act as a second adult. She couldn't even afford to buy her kids shoes. _I'm a bad mother. I'm a bad mother_.

She'd sat on the couch and tried not to burst into tears as she tried to get the twins to latch onto her swollen breasts. They wailed themselves to exhaustion and fell asleep while weakly mouthing her nipples. Apache leaned the back of her head on the couch and dreamed about sleeping herself when Jostle, her five-year-old, started screaming for her outside. Apache passed one of the twins, Helix, to Elation and staggered onto the veranda, squinting in the bright light. There were three men outside, half-mounted on bikes. She looked at their outlines and knew they'd be around the same age as her. Suddenly she felt old and saggy, like the skin of a fruit.

Jostle scampered up the stairs and hid behind her, yelling and waking the twins up. Apache really was on the verge of crying then – she was hot and sore and had given birth to a pair of underweight babies barely a week ago. Didn't she _deserve_ some peace?

When one of the men spoke, she thought for a blissful second that it was Longshot. It wasn't, of course – but his voice was so gentle and soothing that she revelled in it for a few moments, letting it wash over her.

"Sorry for the bother, ma'am. We only need a room for one night."

She swallowed her tears. "Yes. Fine. Take any one you want." _I don't give a fuck if you sleep on the roof_.

"Thankyou so much." He paused. "How old are your chilluns, ma'am?"

Apache met his eyes in surprise. "These ones? They're five days old." He wore an eyepatch and his fur was pewter grey. Her heart ached for Longshot.

"Lordy." He looked over at Elation. "You helpin' your Mama out, little lady?"

Elation smiled. "Yeth-thir. They're called Hitch n' Heelick-th." Her lisp was getting worse as her teeth were falling out. Apache corrected Ellie mechanically, pronouncing Helix's name _sans_ lisp.

"They be real strong names, ma'am." He didn't say anything else; his eyes rested on little Hitch as Apache rocked him.

The one with white fur spoke up. "We'll pay extra, ma'am. For your trouble."

Apache forced herself to smile. "You don't need to." _I know exactly what you're thinking_. "We're alright."

They looked at each other and asked if they could take their own keys. She only nodded and told them the keys were all the same anyway, and hustled Jostle inside. He fled to his room and Ellie looked up at her questioningly. "I'm gonna go thee if he'th OK." She gave Helix to Apache and went after her younger brother.

Apache looked at her babies in despair. The twins pouted hungrily and screwed up their faces. She held them to her bosom wearily, expecting hopeless mewls and butterfly brushes on her painful breasts.

Instead, she felt a hard tug on her nipples.

She looked down, and this time she really did cry.

The twins were finally feeding properly.

Now she was sitting on her veranda, holding a baby in one hand and an envelope in another as she watched the woman with gold fur join the three bikers out on the main road and ride away. She shifted Helix so she could open the envelope. Two nights accommodation, paid in full.

There was another slip of paper in there as well. Apache pulled it out and her mouth dropped open. It was a cheque for $5,000.

She read it over and over again, trying to convince herself that they must have left it there by mistake. Helix snorted in his sleep. Apache turned the cheque over and suddenly began to cry again, quietly.

There were five words written on the back of the cheque. _Spend it on the kids_.

* * *

Karma muttered to herself mutinously as Modo redressed her shoulder at the next service station. Her gunshot wound had bled through the bandages overnight and she hadn't said a word – they stopped for petrol and Karma disappeared around the back for half an hour. When the guys went to find her, she was sitting on the step, trying to redress the wound herself.

"We're stuck in this thing t'gether," Modo preached as he took the bandages out of her hands. "Like it or not, Miss Karma, you might well ask us fer help."

Karma only snorted and bared her shoulder for him. "You did a shoddy job," she snapped. "It bled through."

"You _slept_ on that shoulder, ah bet."

Karma didn't say anything, well aware that she was only making herself look like an idiot by answering back.

The back door of the service station swung open and hit Karma in the back of the head. She swore loudly and a boy about fifteen stuck his head out. "Oh, shit – sorry."

"Fuckin' better be, kid, I got enough things to worry about."

"_Hawly_ crap." The boy peered at Karma's shoulder. "What happened to _you_?"

"I had a domestic with my back window," Karma growled. "Don't ask me to get into it."

The boy almost withdrew back into the service station. Almost. "Do you need anything for that?"

"_Ow_! For fuck's _sake_, Modo!"

"Bein' as gentle as I can, Miss Karma – if you just stop _wigglin'_ –"

"I'm _not_ wigglin'!"

The kid's head turned back and forth as Karma and Modo exchanged their banter, and tried again to interject. "We got some tea-tree oil if you need any –"

The panic in Karma's eyes was all Throttle needed to sit back and laugh. "Don't worry, kid, we got this covered."

"If you need anything, just gimme a yell."

"_Leave_, boy." Karma was rapidly being reduced to the psychological state of a bad-tempered animal – her eyes were bloodshot and her jaws were slathering. The kid bolted the door.

"You frightened the poor child away," Vinnie admonished. "And he was even gonna get you some _tea-tree_ –"

"Say one more word and he won't be the only one runnin'." Karma was very pissed. "I will make you _eat_ a tea-tree if you don't shut up."

"You're so cute when you lose your temper."

Karma actually made to get up, and only stopped when Modo pulled the fur on her arm. "If you keep movin' you'll be dressin' this yourself. And you've proved that you cain't really do that too well."

Karma grunted and sat back down heavily. Modo tied off the bandage and looked at her with concern. "You really should get this looked at, Miss Karma."

"I think I've had enough of people pokin' around my various wounds for one day." She wasn't going to get into it.

They bought a map at the service station and asked for directions. They were told that there was a bed-and-breakfast about twenty miles west, or another one about a hundred miles up the road. Karma was adamant that they weren't about to get off-track. "Bullshit. We've lost ground as it is." She reached for her helmet. "We'll ride in the night. Go fast. Fill your tanks up."

"All night?"

"S'matter, baby, you want your bedtime?" Karma gave Vinnie a poisonous look.

"How do you even know he went this way?" Vinnie demanded.

"I've explained this, you idiot!" Karma's temper was thin. "We need to _move_ before he gets out of reach."

"I _know_ that, woman!"

"Then why're you complaining? I made it clear when I said you boys could come that you had to do what I said. Like it or lump it." Karma tightened the straps on her saddle-bag just so she could turn her back to him. She only made it worse.

"What if he's not _there_? We'll be riding all night and then realise that he might have turned off the road! We'll lose a _day_!"

Karma was quiet. "I know he'll be there because one, I'm a professional, and two, I know what I'm doing. See above."

"You seriously think you're the best, don't you?"

"My rep didn't come easy, you arsehole." She was really getting nasty. "It's probably a lot more credible than yours."

"Oh, so Karma the Great can do it all herself." Vinnie's pale hackles were standing on end.

"If Karma the Great didn't have idiots like you to work with, she definitely could. And would." Karma leaned on her bike with her arms folded. "You think I _like_ luggin' you three along? I _like_ workin' by myself. I'm _good_ at it."

This was getting too far. Modo tried to intervene. "Hey, this isn't the best time to –"

"Shut the fuck up, farmboy. If Snow-Balls wants to have a bitch, I'm more than willing to play." Karma stood up. "Speak to me, Vin."

Vin spoke. "You think you're this shit-hot tracker. You've got this unbelievable reputation. And so far all you've done is bitch, treat us like shit, dump us and then expect us to just follow you like puppies."

"That'd be so nice if you did."

"_I'm not doing that_! I _want_ to get this job done and for all I know you could be utter _shit_."

Karma started at that. "So you want me to _prove_ myself? God, you're pathetic."

"Hey, I think me and my bros have proved that we're good enough when we found you at Utopia 12."

"That was a one-off." Karma looked away, like it wasn't worth talking about. Even Throttle felt a sting.

"What do we need to do, Karma? I don't give a shit if Carbine says you're good, I wouldn't take her word for anything. I'm not gonna keep _tiptoeing_ after you while you work behind closed doors. I'm here and my bros are here and you're stuck with us and we're doing this _together_."

Karma laughed at him. "If I left you boys to yourselves you wouldn't even know where to start."

"You don't even know if Harley's _where you think she is_! You haven't _done_ anything!" Vinnie spat. "Stop being a stubborn cow and do some _tracking_!"

Karma stared at him and he closed his mouth. _Oh, shit_. Karma just kept staring at him, face unreadable.

The teenage boy who'd stuck his head out of the door was moving around the front yard, checking the petrol gauges. Without a word Karma got up and flounced around the front of the station, eyes still locked in Vinnie's.

"Hey kid."

The boy looked at her nervously, as though she might bite. "Yeah?"

Karma turned her head and talked to him properly. "You seen a white truck go by here recently?"

The kid considered. "Two."

Karma raised her eyebrows. "_Two_ white trucks. You're pickin' up business."

"You could say." The kid stopped what he was doing and faced her, regaining some composure. "Why're you interested?"

_Smartarse_. Karma kept her temper in check. "Was one of 'em a white Dazzler, by any chance?"

"Maybe."

"It's mine. Someone stole it."

The boy smirked. "And you're goin' all the way out here to find it?"

"My sister was inside it at the time. They stole her too."

The kid's eyes widened. "A girl?"

"My sister, yeah."

"Does she… look like you?"

Karma raised her eyebrows and pulled Harley's photo out of her wallet. "She look like this?"

The kid held the corner of the photo carefully with his grubby fingers. "Yep." He looked again. "Blue eyes, pretty face. They took about five litres of petrol."

"Who was with her?"

"Don't know. They didn't come out. They yelled at her to hurry up, though, and it sounded like a guy."

Karma nodded. "Where'd they go?"

"Kept goin' down the road. Only way to go." The kid pointed. "This was about a week ago, lady – you got a lot of ground to catch up."

"Looks like it." Karma took the photo back. "Thanks for your help."

"Anytime. Hey –"

Karma stopped. The kid fidgeted. "Um… if I annoyed you, back there –"

"It's no problem, kid."

Karma went around the back of the station again and confronted Vinnie. "There. Did my tracking. They're where I thought they'd be."

Vinnie didn't say anything.

Karma reached for her water bottle on her bike and tipped the entire contents violently over her head. Water droplets clung to the golden down on her cheeks and her eyelashes. In the light, she looked like she was blinking away diamonds.

She ran her fingers through her hair and closed her eyes. "This is a shitty job. A _shitty_ dragon's den. And I've got this _idiot_ to deal with." She threw her water bottle on the ground. "_Fuck_ this!"

Her bike, up until then, had been totally quiet. In fact, the guys had had their doubts about it being A.I. At that moment, Karma's little Sandskater roared and pitched itself forward. Karma swore at it and the bike swore back. "You little _shit_!"

The bike turned and growled at her. She kicked the front wheel, her tantrum now in full swing – the bike lurched forward and dared her to kick it again.

Karma glared at her bike with venom. The bike's headlight turned on and it glared right back at her, as though telling her off.

Karma folded her arms and scuffed the ground at her feet. "Yeah? Well maybe I thought I could."

The bike grumbled and she sneered. "Since when did you like company? I thought it was just you and me." The bike only throbbed, but Karma reacted with electrical rage. "What the _fuck_ would you know?"

The bike bellowed right back and threatened to run over her foot. Karma sidestepped and almost fell over. The bike approached her and snarled for a good minute, obviously giving her a lecture. This time, Karma actually listened.

"So? That's it?"

Rumble.

"And that's the _only_ explanation you're gonna give me?"

Rumble, again.

Karma sat down and rubbed her forehead. "Yeah?"

Rumble.

Karma thought about that last rumble for a very long time. Her face twitched with various emotions and frowns as possibilities whirled in her head. Finally she pulled a face. "OK, Karma. You can do this. You've screwed up early, but you can fix it. You've been too busy bitchin' about the boys, but you really can't change that anyway. You're only gonna have to get used to 'em. This is only a hill that you need to climb over."

She looked up at the guys. "Alright. Let's get some supplies, somethin' to eat and then get ready for a long night. We'll stop at the next town, get some breakfast, and then I'm gonna sit down, smoke and have a good long think."

* * *

It was half past noon when they pulled out of the service station and prepared themselves for a long ride ahead. The road widened and then sort of merged in with the dust at the side. A road-sign written in Misaa presented them with a skull and red letters that screamed out danger about five miles down.

"Landmines," Karma said when asked. "You're ridin' through the biggest minefield that the Plutarkians have ever created. If Mace tried to turn off at any point along here, we'd know." She shifted to the middle of the road. "Best stay in the centre. I don't wanna be blown up by some stinkfish bomb."

The road was totally empty and there was nothing in the way of scenery. Boredom quickly set in.

After about an hour, Karma switched her bike to cruise-mode and sat up straight, cracking her back. "Road just goes straight on. You can relax, guys." She leaned back and put her feet up on the dash. "Before it happens; if any of you are about to start _singing_, I will puncture your tyres."

They were silent. Karma suddenly laughed. "God, you _were_, weren't you? You sound so _crushed_. I'm almost sorry."

"Are you now, Miss Tracker?"

"Not that sorry, Mr Wordsmith." She might – just might – have smiled at him as he rode next to her. "This ain't a road-trip."

"Hey, we cain't keep sombre _awl_ the ta'ame." Modo rode up on the other side of her, hands behind his head.

"Stay in the middle of the road, you drongo," she said easily. He dropped behind.

Hours and hours went by. The guys eventually did sing, and Karma put up with it admirably for a very long time. Finally she smiled at them and told them to stop. Throttle could have sworn it echoed over the plains; "_Shut the FUCKING FUCK UP_! God, you could _kill_ someone!"

The sun went down and the temperature slid sharply. Karma snuggled into her jacket and curled up on the back of her bike. "You doin' OK, Baby?" she yelled into the wind.

Her bike honked loudly. "You tell me if you need to stop."

Honk.

"Great." She turned. "Hey Vinnie."

"What?"

"Not to pry, but I heard you knew Harley well."

Vinnie, who was lying back in a similar fashion that she was, sat up and glared at Karma. "What's your point?"

"You might know some things that I don't. It could help."

"Help what?"

"_Why_ do you have to be the big man?" Karma snapped. "You're doing this job because you want to find Harley. You care about her, right?"

"Who told you that?"

"I wouldn't need to ask. You're getting all defensive. Spectacular giveaway."

Vinnie was quiet for a few seconds. "She was my girlfriend."

"For how long?"

"About five seconds."

Karma tried to absorb that. "Is your relationship history really that sad?"

"Hey, if Mace didn't dive on her right after I kissed her it would've been different."

Karma eyed him. "You saw the kidnap."

"You make it sound so technical, woman. I saw Mace hold a blaster to her head and threaten to blow her brains out if I did anything."

"Did you do anything?"

"Yeah. Tried. I was a kid. He didn't shoot her. He pissed off with her." Vinnie looked up at the stars. "I know her pretty well. Or I did. What do you need to know?"

"Nothing right now." Karma shook her head. "But when I do, you'll be the first person I'll be askin'. Got that?"

"Sure."

Nobody said anything after that. The stars kept them company.

* * *

Throttle must have fallen asleep, because he woke up with Karma's voice in his ear. "Time to wake up, _boys_. It's five in the a.m. and there's a bed-and-breakfast up ahead. Don't know for sure, this map is about twenty years old – but it's a check-off point, so it should be there."

He opened his eyes blearily. The sun was just beginning to rise and he was freezing cold. Karma was sitting astride Baby – _God_, he thought, _I'd never humiliate my bike like that_ – with the map unfolded and pinned to the dash. "If we don't find it, we'll just keep goin'. Clear?"

"Karma."

"What?"

"Nature's callin'."

"Vinnie, you are such a child."

"I'm stoppin' right here."

"It's a minefield, you muckhead!"

"Oh. Yeah."

"Hold it. Or else." She looked around at him. "I mean it."

Vinnie didn't reply.

By the time seven a.m. rolled around, the sun had risen properly and they were all hot, grumpy and starving. And, in Vinnie's case, very highly strung. "Karmaaaaaa…"

"Oh, for the love of God." She pulled up. "Just _go_. If you step on a mine, it's not my problem."

Vinnie smiled and pulled out his blaster. Karma looked at him warily. "What're you doing?"

"Makin' sure I don't step on a mine." He fired a shot into the ground next to the road. "Nope. No mine there."

"Jesus Christ, you are _not_ sane." Karma watched him in seeming fascination as he shot himself a pathway through the minefield. "Vincent van Wham, you are _unbelievable_."

Vinnie relieved himself and strode back to his bike. "Karma, you are officially full of shit. There's no mines at all."

Karma smirked at him. "Show you something." She pulled out her Derringer and levelled her arm at eye-level. Three shots. Bang, bang, bang.

The bullets whistled in unison and hit the ground about six metres away. The ground erupted in a cloud of dust and sand. The noise was earsplitting. When the dust finally cleared, there were three massive craters side by side. Three mines in a row.

"Yeah. No mines at all." Karma put her Derringer back in her holster under her jacket. "Just really pissed-off dirt." She smiled again. "Or maybe that should be pissed-_on_ dirt. Not sure which."

"Shut up."

"Damn, I'm funny. Come on, _boys_."

* * *

Half an hour later, Vinnie stopped again. Karma looked at him sparingly. "Do you have a death wish or a bladder problem?"

"I'm gonna get something to eat." He began to rummage through his saddle bags.

"There's a bed-and-breakfast just up ahead! Save the food in case we need it." Karma leapt off her bike and physically stopped him. "Please. Just save the food."

"I'm hungry. I'm not putting up with your crap, woman. Maybe you run on air with that lovely body of yours, but I have muscle to sustain and I'm getting some food."

"Vinnie, please don't eat anything. I promise I will buy you as much breakfast as you want."

Vinnie looked her up and down. "What's your problem?"

"Just do what I say." Karma regained some of her bitchiness. "Consider yourself lucky you're being treated."

"How far is it?"

"Two miles tops. Don't eat that food."

"You've got two miles, lady."

"You've got two _seconds_ if you keep goin' like that."

* * *

True to her word, Karma found the bed-and-breakfast. "Thank _God_. I was scared it'd been blown up." They pulled into the yard, avoiding the areas marked with yellow tape that signified the presence of more mines. "You boys don't say a word – I need to tell her a password or she'll kill us all with a sniper rifle."

"Bullshit. Who?"

"Woman who runs this place. I told you, it's a check-off point run by the government. The woman who runs it was incarcerated in a mental asylum before she got a job here."

"Why'd they hire her?"

"They could depend on her not falling for any fakes." Karma smoothed down her jacket. "Problem is she didn't fall for some of the real ones too."

They knocked on the door and waited. It opened a crack and a woman with yellow fur and pink eyes answered it. "Howdy." She had a lovely grandmotherly smile. Throttle dismissed Karma's warnings as crap.

Karma went right to the point. "You're a bed-and-breakfast, yeah?"

"Yes, ma'am."

"Could we skip the bed and get some breakfast?"

The woman looked her over and frowned. "Ooh, you wand'rers never eat enough. Din't yer mother never tell ya t'take any food?"

Karma grinned and relaxed. "Good to see you, Fettle."

"Git'cher sorry ass over t' the kitchen, Karma-girl. Who're yer friends?"

"They're with me. Too dumb to know passwords."

Fettle shrugged. "'Slongs they don't steal nothin', ah don't ma'and."

As Throttle passed Fettle and followed Karma to the kitchen, he glanced down at something she was holding by her side. He nearly had a heart attack.

Karma wasn't kidding. Fettle had a sniper rifle.

* * *

The boys were extremely careful to be extra polite to Fettle, or "Mrs. Madde" as she asked to be called. Karma was the only one allowed to call her by her first name, and Throttle wouldn't dream of going against the wishes of a septuagenarian woman with a loaded gun. She gave them possibly the best breakfast that he'd ever had and left them to it. "Call me if ya need anythin'. Ah'm goin' out t' patrol in 'bout twenny minutes, so mek it quick. You stayin' th' na'at, Karma?"

"Yeah. I got some calls to make."

"Who yer lukkin' fer now?"

"Rat called Mace Sordovsta. Know 'im?"

"Ah don't mix wit Rats. Mek a point of it, really." Fettle wandered out of the kitchen and down the hall.

"Patrol?"

"She patrols the road. Habit of hers."

"What's with the Mrs. Madde? Who'd stay married to her?"

"She killed her husband. You really want the details?" Karma was sitting up on the bench, swinging her legs like a little girl, eating a piece of toast. Harley's file was open in her lap and she was dropping crumbs all over it. "Hey Vinnie. Your girlfriend's got a criminal record." She took another bite out of her toast and raised her eyebrows. "As a hacker."

"I know."

She looked at him sharply. "How?"

"I was there. We were hacking into government files."

"What for?" Karma leaned forward, not noticing that her hair had gotten caught in her toast.

"We were bored. And she had her laptop. And… we were bored."

"You would've been…" she glanced at the file again, "sixteen?"

"She was sixteen, I was eighteen."

"What'd you hack? _How_ did she hack?"

"We hacked into the Wanted Criminals database and put Sergeant Scabbard on the Public Enemy list. Man, that was so funny." Vinnie leaned back and grinned at the ceiling. "We laughed about it for ages."

"Did she have a lead?"

"What's that meant to mean?"

Throttle couldn't stand seeing her hair stuck to her toast anymore. "Karma. Your toast."

"What? Aw, crap." Karma untangled the toast from her hair and inspected her locks closely. "Shit. I got honey in it." She went to the sink and ran her hair under the tap. "Anyway. Was she hooked up to the database where those files are kept, or wasn't she?"

Vinnie still looked confused. "Look, we went on the Net, we went onto the government website, and then she just did something and about five minutes later we were on the Wanted Criminals database."

Karma turned her head and looked into his eyes squarely. "And she was sixteen."

"Yeah."

Karma scrubbed her hair for a little longer under the tap before speaking again. "Look, I'm not into computers. I'll admit that now. I suck at hacking. It's not my forte. But I know that what she did is the hacking equivalent of me breaking into a maximum security Plutarkian death camp. Alone."

"What, impossible?"

"Oh, it's possible. I could do it. But Hell, it'd have to be for a real good reason or a helluva lot of money. And I'd want immediate backup in the form of fighter jets on standby, a two-way radio and some very big guns." She turned the tap off and ran her fingers through her hair viciously. "Shit. Still sticky. Where's my toast?"

"I threw it out. It had hair in it."

"Ew." She turned back to Vinnie. "Did she ever do something like that again?"

"Not like _that_, I don't think. But she was always making new modification programmes for A.I. bikes so that they'd be easier to manoeuvre… she was real nifty with that. And I think once she hacked into the exam programme during cadets and changed all the questions."

Modo rolled his eye. "You _still_ sore about failin' that exam?"

"I'd never seen questions like that in my life! 'Name three different hand-to-hand combinations that can be used to disarm an armed adversary.' It was in the first year! How was I meant to know that?"

"Everyone else did."

"I maintain that she did that. But that was _before_ she was nice."

Karma snorted. "Whatever. I'm not gonna get involved in this." She leaned against the bench, thinking. "I think I might ring Hew."

"Who's Hew?"

"Friend of mine." She smiled as she said it, like she couldn't help it. The guys looked at her with new interest.

"Anyone we should know?"

"Shut up." She smiled again, a very beautiful smile that had something akin to love attached to it. She picked up her mobile and scrolled through her numbers' list, hit 'Call' and waited.

The phone rang twice and then someone picked up. Karma reacted with thrilling excitement. "Hi, _baby_!" she sang into the phone. "How are _you_…? I'm good, I'm good… oh, I love you." She paused. "No, I love _you_ more." Another pause. "I don't think so, I love _you_ more…"

This went on for some time until Karma finally gave up and laughed. "OK. Alright. You win. Could you put Daddy on the line now, sweetie?"

* * *

Alrighty, mon bebes. Now you've read it. Now you've loved it. Now you've stroked it.

What's left, chilluns?

Love you all. Love you more if you review.

Mad-Eyed Owl


	5. The Weeping of the Gemsbok Calf

No, kids. She's not dead. She's not kidnapped. She hasn't suddenly decided she's converting to a Buddhist sect and is going to live the rest of her life in seclusion, away from the many complicated forms of human technology. Mad-Eyed Owl has merely just finished her exam term, and has now FINALLY been able to write some more about Karma and the boys and their hilarious hunt. PLEASE forgive me. I can't guarantee that they will now happen in any (faster) succession, because my finals are coming up in October and I plan on studying like mad, but we'll see. Definitely be free by the second of November. Wish me luck.

NOW, chickens, on to Chapter effing Five - The Weeping of the Gemsbok Calf.

* * *

It turned out that Hew wasn't some kind of love-interest on Karma's behalf – in fact, he was way off the market, considering he was married with four kids. "We're just really good friends," Karma explained later. "We get along well and he can get into places that I can't touch." 

Hew was the cyber equivalent of Karma in the tracking business – he was, according to Karma, "one of the fuckin' best hackers in the biz." Karma asked him if he could help them in finding Harley, and they talked at great length. Hew seemed to make a lot of suggestions, to which Karma would shrug and say "I dunno" or "I guess… I need to find out."

She paused at one point and asked Vinnie, "Do we know where we might be able to find Harley's old laptop?"

"Might be at her old house."

"Her old house, maybe," Karma echoed back into the phone. "Yeah, I should. If I don't, he could tell me. Hew, this is a subzero case… I know, but I'm getting desperate here. Anything is good."

There was another pause as a male voice murmured indistinctly over the phone. Karma was nodding. "OK. Look, I'll ask, and if we can I'll ring you back. OK? Alright, bye. Say hi to the kids for – oh, wait. Who's this –? Oh, _hello_, honey." She was all gush again. "Yes. Yeah, I might be – _might_ be, it depends on whether I can get your Daddy a present or not… it's a surprise, honey. And it might not be there… No, I'm working. I'm looking for someone."

Suddenly she smiled and put an exaggerated finger to her lips. "Yeah, hush-hush. Very secret." She laughed. "OK, babykins. Bye-bye-bye-bye." She was still laughing as she hung up. "I _love_ that kid. He's the most gorgeous creature alive." She put her phone back in her pocket and went businesslike again.

"OK." She grabbed Harley's file off the benchtop and flicked through it again. "Last residence, last resid – what the _fuck_." She stared at the paper. "I am _not_ going to Opposite the Pole. _Tell_ me her laptop isn't there."

[Author's Note: In the Mad-Eyed Owl universe, "Opposite the Pole" is the term used in reference to the southernmost province of Mars. Many people from O.T.P are fair, blue- or green-eyed and talk with an accent similar to that of an Alabaman in America, known as a "Dire Valley" accent. They are mostly peasants – those who are not are usually part of some syndicate.

Vinnie took the file out of her hands and read it, frowning. "That's her village. She didn't live there for years."

Karma relaxed a little. "Where was she, then?"

"She spent a lot of her time out on the fields."

"Did she take her laptop with her?"

Vinnie thought for a second. "I don't think so."

"Big help, Vincent." Karma took the file back. "Is it possible that it might still be at Opposite the Pole?"

"I dunno."

Karma thought for a second. "Alrighty then." She took out her mobile and scrolled through the memory. "Thank God the government pays my phone bills…"

The phone rang for a long time before somebody answered with a yell.

"I can make it _perfect_ for you, baby," Karma purred. The person on the other end laughed and said something. Karma's face twitched. "Who the _Hell_ is _that_ –? No, Skelter, this is Karma."

Throttle remembered Skelter from the briefing they had before setting out. Skelter was doing the southern run, towards Opposite the Pole. _Ahh… so Karma knows how to network_.

Skelter was silent for a second. "Yeah. Whoops is right. Hey honey, can you do me a favour…? I need you to get me a package." She paused. "Yeah, little Harley left her laptop at her holiday house in O.T.P and she's got schoolwork on it. Could you pick it up?"

Skelter asked her something. "Soon as possible. It's a very important assignment she's got on there."

Skelter considered for a few seconds. "I don't care, any way you want. I don't – oh, are you already there?" A pause. "At her house? Damn, you're quick."

Throttle faintly heard laughter on the other end. "Skelter, we've talked about this. If you're going to keep up this sexual innuendo crap – yeah. That's better. Good. Now, issue at hand is the laptop… if you could network – oh, well then you only gotta ask for it. Nah, I'm at Fettle's right now."

They talked for a bit longer when Karma's face suddenly lit up. "Actually, I just remembered. There's a guy at O.T.P who owes me a big favour." She paused. "Big enough. I saved his furry arse. He's in the delivery game."

Skelter asked a few more things, which she confirmed. "Yep. Yeah. Yep… well, last time I checked he was at the spacedock. Ask for the White Rose in Dock 32-D and mention my name. He'll do anything you want." She paused and laughed. "Ask him first and see how far he goes. If he wants to have a chat, ring me. But just see if you can get the laptop first, coz I'm sort of screwed right now." She smiled again. "OK. Yeah, you do that." She hung up. "If I didn't know better I'd think he was in love with me." She busied herself with Harley's file again. "Such a dirty mind…"

She suddenly yawned and tried to stretch, swearing when her shoulder protested. "Ah, fuck." She shucked her jacket and hung it on the back of a chair. Underneath, she wore a blue halter-neck that steered completely clear of her injured shoulder. "Let's see how the shoulder's doing. _Fettle_!"

There was a loud bang down the hall. "_Comin', honeychile_!" Mrs. Madde came bustling into the kitchen, armed with her sniper rifle, a bandolier of ammunition and heavy working boots. "What'chew – _sweet_ Mother." Her severe pink eyes surveyed Karma's shoulder closely. "When'd that happen?"

"Cupola days ago. We've been lookin' after it, but I thought maybe a third opinion might help."

"Wait ra'at here." Mrs. Madde vanished again, muttering to herself. Karma smiled serenely, sat down and began to unwind the bandage. "Give us a hand, Modo?"

Mrs. Madde returned with a medibox and banged it on the tabletop. "Who did this t' mah priddy girl?" she asked as she slid a pair of glasses onto her snout and began sorting through various amounts of medical paraphernalia. "Here, cha'ald –" she held out a hand to Modo, who had finished undressing Karma's shoulder. "Gimme that rag there, we'll burn it later. This one been lukkin' afta you, Karma-girl?" she asked pointedly as Modo handed her the bandage.

"Who, Modo? Yeah." Karma gave him one of her beatific smiles.

"You be lucky t'have him on yer sa'ade, priddy girl. Luks la'ak he done well wit'cher shoulder." Mrs. Madde leaned in close and inspected the flesh wound with interest. Her nose twitched visibly. "Ah smell tea-trees."

Karma's smile sagged slightly. "Yeah."

Mrs. Madde reached over and touched Modo's arm. "You, boy, are a wise n' forthright Mouse. Ah hope t' God you n' Karma-girl git married, coz this girl costs me hun'reds in med fees evvy ta'ame she come here."

Karma's face was totally, tactfully blank. "Please don't ever mention matrimony. Ever again."

"You tellin' me whatta do, girl?" Mrs. Madde raised an eyebrow as she dressed Karma's shoulder with lightning speed. "I knew you a'fore yer hair got stripy n' yer teeth were capped."

Vinnie snorted loudly and Karma turned her head to give him a toxic glare. Mrs. Madde tied off the bandage and then got up. "Ah'm goin' on patrol. Back in cupola hours." She waddled down the hall and they heard the front door slamming.

"My teeth aren't capped," Karma muttered as she got up. "My teeth are _perfect_." She made to pick up Harley's file again, and then stopped. "Here's something for you boys to do. Vinnie –" she pointed at him. "Anything and everything you remember from the last day you saw her – put it in there. I wanna know what she did, how she was – Hell, what she had for breakfast."

"And where are you going?"

"To get clean." She followed Mrs. Madde's footsteps and locked herself in the bathroom.

Vinnie glowered after her. "I bet her teeth _are_ capped."

"Ah bet they're not. She be the kinda woman who got lucky in the looks department."

"You need to get laid, man."

"Ah'm ra'at. She's a fine pretty lady, whatever way you look."

"She's a bitch." Vinnie picked up Harley's file and looked at it dismissively.

"Just coz she ain't slatherin' over you…"

Vinnie ignored the jibe and sat down. "I got some work to do."

Throttle left Vinnie to himself and went out the sliding door at the back of the kitchen, which led to the veranda. Mrs. Madde had a small back garden, enclosed by a redstone wall, and grew her own vegetables. It would have cost her hours of time to make it grow. A low bleat from the back wall made his ears prick up, just as a baby gemsbok stuck its head over a fence.

Throttle walked through the garden and extended a hand. The black stripes on her face marked her as female. "Hey, little girl." The gemsbok calf looked at him with soft brown eyes and bleated again. He petted her velvety ears and she rubbed her head on his hand, enjoying the attention. He noticed that she was alone in her pen. He also noticed that she only had three legs.

"What happened to you, eh?" He sat down in the dirt next to the pen and the gemsbok limped forward so he could keep rubbing her head. "Where'd Mrs. Madde get you from?"

The gemsbok shoved her head through the pen and snorted in his face before moving to lip at his nose. He moved out of the way and she griped pathetically. When he cautiously moved his hand forward, she sucked on his fingers.

"You're a lot younger than you look, aren't you?"

She chewed on his fingers for a while, her soft tongue searching for a teat, then spat them out and limped away to shove her head in a bucket of water. She lapped at it, but clearly didn't enjoy it. Throttle got the impression that she was still in her milking stage.

The sound of footsteps made him look up. Modo loomed over him. "Vinnie's drivin' me foolish," he muttered. "Who's yer new friend?"

The gemsbok calf gazed up at him adoringly and limped forward, bleating loudly. He rubbed her head just as Throttle had done, and she tried to stand up on one back leg to get an extra benefit. "Lookit'chew, liddle girl," Modo crooned. "Where's yer Mama, huh? You be too liddle to be out all alone."

The gemsbok yawned as he scratched her ears and got down on her knees. Her long neck extended and she took a mouthful of hackgrass hay that was spread in a heap in her pen, chewing uncertainly. Modo sat down opposite Throttle. "She'd be a month old. Don't even have the teeth for eatin' yet."

"I don't think she has a choice. Cute little thing."

"Y' could never say no to a pretty face," Modo needled him gently. Throttle half-smiled back. "Guess not."

The gemsbok calf spat out the rest of her hay, yawned again and laid down her head listlessly. She looked so miserable all of a sudden that Throttle put his hand through the bars of her pen again and stroked her neck. She glanced at him and seemed to smile.

"She misses her Mama," Modo said decidedly.

"I'd like to know how she lost her leg."

"She looks la'ak she ma'at be feral. There still be some gemsbok herds around – she prob'ly stepped on a mine."

"Somehow I got the feeling that Mama did as well and wasn't so lucky."

"Maybe."

The gemsbok calf closed her eyes and let out a great sigh. Throttle withdrew his hand. "Look, bro –"

"Ah already know what'chew gawn say. Was wonderin' when you were gonna talk." Modo met his eyes steadily.

"About what?"

"Carbine."

Throttle's shoulders slumped. "Shit."

"You gotta let go of her, man. She left you two years ago and awny made it official now. You hangin' on n' hangin' on to somethin' that ain't there anymore – even doin' this job won't bring her back to you."

Throttle glared at him. "What the fuck would you know? Look man, I know you think that's how –"

"It _is_ how. Ah watch people. Watch 'em all the ta'ame. You wanna go bitch to someone, you go do it." Modo waved a hand in a dismissive motion. "Go fer it. Ah cain't stop ya. But ah'm ra'at. You gotta let go've this woman a'fore she hurts you anymore."

Throttle reached through the bars and fiddled with the gemsbok's ears. "What time is it?"

"Ah… half past eleven."

"Tell me that again when we're drunk in some nameless bar, so I might be able to get my head around it."

The gemsbok calf opened her eyes and grunted. He took his hand away, and she fell asleep again.

* * *

Mrs. Madde was the world's most awesome cook. She specifically left them something to eat on the bench – homemade salad, cheese and some kind of silt-chicken curry. Karma was still in the bathroom at lunchtime, so the guys adopted the mindset of finders-keepers and proceeded to eat every consumable substance available when suddenly Karma's phone rang. The guys glanced at each other. "If we answer it she'll kill us." 

"No doubt."

There was the sound of a door being thrown open down the hall. "_Is that my phone_?"

"Yeah!" _How the fuck did she hear it?_

"_Well ANSWER IT, dipshit_!"

Modo glared at Throttle. "If you make me do it, ah'll throw ya through a window."

The phone was still ringing impatiently. Throttle gritted his teeth and picked it up like it was a bomb. "Hello?"

"_Who the Hell is this_?" Skelter sounded very surprised.

"Karma's just in the shower – no, she's coming now –"

"_Shower, eh…_?"

Karma came charging down the hall, dripping wet and wrapped in a towel. Her shot shoulder was still painstakingly dry, and Throttle now knew why she'd been taking so long. "Who is it?" she asked breathlessly.

"It's Skelter."

"About time." She grabbed the phone out of his hand. "Hey, you dutiful wench."

"_Hey, princess_." Skelter's voice was much louder than it was before. "_Went to the address on the file, got a beautiful little laptop from a beautiful little lady in a beautiful little holiday house, and Rosie says he can deliver_."

"Beautiful. Where do I pick it up?"

"_Brimstone Valley. Don't know exactly where it is, but he says that's as far as he goes. He's entirely happy to do it, y'know. I'd love to hear that story_."

"I'll save it for your wedding night."

"_That a proposal_?"

"I'll let you guess." Karma's hair was dripping water onto the floor in delicate _plink-plinks_.

"_You're so cruel, woman_."

"You love it."

"_That I do. So… you should be getting Harley's schoolwork in a few days, three at tops. He said to tell you that you've got a date at Fattie's Drop-Off. And then when you've saved the world I'll come back and we'll get married_."

Karma's eyes bulged. "You've never used the 'm' word before."

"_I'm determined to possess you, my love. Talk to you later_." He hung up.

Karma stared at her phone. "Married?" she asked. When nobody replied, she asked again. "_Married_? Ugh, Skelter, you swine." She tossed her phone onto the table and whirled around. The black streaks in her hair glistened like ebony. Throttle caught a glimpse of another scar that slashed across her shoulderblade.

Karma turned and caught him staring. "What're you lookin' at?" she snarled. He diverted his eyes politely and she marched back down the hall, leaving damp footprints in her wake, to slam her bedroom door.

There was a short silence in the kitchen before Vinnie broke it. "Ten bucks says she only grabbed the towel as a second thought."

"Oh, if only."

Throttle actually laughed.

* * *

Mrs. Madde came back at half-past one. By that time, Vinnie had exhausted his brain trying to remember the last day he saw Harley and was sitting limply at the kitchen table. Mrs. Madde assumed that he'd had nothing to eat and proceeded to feed him more of her delectable fodder, at which point Karma walked in wearing a black singlet and muttering mutinously about her shoulder giving her Hell. 

"You eaten anythin', honeychile?"

"Nope. I was getting clean."

"Yeah? Well na'ow yer clean, you kin eat somethin'. _Not_ a word fr'm you, priddy girl," she said menacingly as Karma opened her mouth to argue. "If you don't put nuthin' in yer belly, you gawna burn that there bosom – n' yer well-endowed, so you'd be brekkin' hearts if that happened." She prodded Karma's bustline with the end of her wooden spoon. Vinnie choked on his gemsbok shank.

Karma rolled her eyes with great disdain and sat down opposite Vinnie, accepting the soup pushed in front of her. "I need to ask you where Brimstone Valley is."

"No ya don't. Ya need t' sherrdup and eat somethin'."

"OK."

"Ask me later, priddy girl."

"Yes, ma'am." Karma promptly tucked in. She glanced at Vinnie across the table. "You finished filling in the file?"

"Did all I could do." He slid it across the table towards her. She flipped it open and read as they ate in silence. When she was done, she nodded. "This is good."

"It is?"

"Yeah." She was still nodding. "You did a good job."

Vinnie looked at her suspiciously and she met his eyes. "Oh, come on – I give credit where credit is due."

"I still don't know whether you're being serious or not."

"Fine. Keep wondering." She gulped down the rest of her soup and closed the file. "Where are the other two lugs?"

"Outsa'ade." Mrs. Madde was frying something as she spoke, and her words merged with the hiss of whatever it was in her saucepan. "Helpin' feed mah new bebby."

"Who?"

"Ahh, local gemsbok herd had a stampede – haff of 'em blew 'emselvses t' Kingdom Come, stoopid kritchers. Ah found a bebby gemsbok on the sa'ade of the road n' she follered me awl the way home, so ah'm keepin' 'er."

"Oh, cute! When was this?"

"Mmm… two weeks ago?"

"Oh, so she's _really_ little."

"Awny got t'ree legs, liddle dear-heart she is. Gits round well, though."

"Three legs?" Vinnie looked down at his gemsbok shank and strangely didn't feel hungry anymore. Mrs. Madde was nodding. "Yeah. Awny t'ree left. Musta been blown off bah the mine... cries fer her Momma n' ah still needa feed her milk, so ah got your boys t' do it."

Karma suddenly looked very wary. "Can they handle it?"

"Ah was gawna ask ya to go check. You finished yer soup?"

"Yep." Karma wiped her mouth quickly. "Thanks, Fettle." She got to her feet and walked out onto the veranda.

Modo and Throttle were wrestling with the gemsbok calf, who thought the whole thing was a game and was wriggling out of their arms and leaping around her pen. Despite the fact she only had three appendages of which to speak, she was clearly still too much for Modo and Throttle to handle. Modo was armed with a bottle of milk and was grinding his teeth. Throttle had just been headbutted in the thigh and was starting to rethink his opinion of the calf's cuteness.

Karma stood on the veranda and cackled loudly, enjoying the scene, before walking down to the pen and leaned over the fence. "Hey, cutie."

The gemsbok calf lunged at her and Karma rubbed her ears gleefully. "You've been playing, huh? You had fun? I bet you did." She vaulted smoothly over the fence and leaned down, massaging the calf's face. The gemsbok griped enthusiastically and bounced on her front hooves, trying to latch onto Karma's nose. "Oh, poor baby's hungry. Hey Modo." Karma looked up. "Let her have a look at the bottle – she'll know what it is by now."

"She ain't gonna keep _still_," Modo said tightly.

"She's only a baby! You can't _force_ her – just let her sniff it, let her look at it. There, pretty baby, look what Modo's got for you." Karma wriggled her fingers in the gemsbok's face and then moved them in Modo's direction. The gemsbok followed her hand attentively. "Look! What's that?"

The gemsbok eyed the bottle in Modo's grasp and staggered towards it. She snuffled around it and her ears pricked up sharply. She began to fuss, griping and bleating. Modo offered it to her hesitantly and she almost pulled the teat off.

Modo knew what to do after that – he sat down and held the bottle up so the calf would be feeding in a way similar to how she would if she was taking it from her mother. "Never tried that a'fore, Miss Karma. We awny wrestled 'em when ah was a kid."

"I can't believe you think you have to force it down her throat." Karma glanced at Throttle. "You OK?"

Throttle was on the other side of the fence and leaning on it, rubbing his hip. "Yeah. She ran into me."

"Ooch." Karma looked at the gemsbok as she gulped greedily at her bottle. "She's got a bony head."

"Yep."

Karma leaned back on the fence. "When you've done that, Modo, Fettle's makin' you food. She's already convinced herself that we're all too skinny."

"Good. All this jumpin' around made me hungry." Modo paused. "It awny be quarter to two."

"Yep. Fettle loves hungry creatures." Karma seemed to be in a significantly good mood, and Throttle made mention of it. "You happy, Miss Tracker?"

"Hmm, yeah. Vinnie's just given me some good pointers on the last day he saw Harley. He's clearly run it through his head a lot – there's a fair bit of detail."

"How you gonna use that information, ma'am? Ah mean, no offence, but it's old."

"Yeah. I know." Karma's fingers drummed out a rhythm on the fence. "I'm trying to figure out exactly why Mace took Harley hostage. If the recent sightings are true, he hasn't killed her yet. The war's over, the sackings are done, the Plutarkians have pissed off and he now technically shouldn't have a foot to stand on. Why does he still have her?"

She ran her fingers through her hair, which was still damp. "There's lots of things I can discern. And the files that Carbine has given me, for want of a better word, are utter crap because this case is so old and cold. And she hasn't done a _scrap_ of work for me – she could have investigated the stuff about that laptop herself, but she hasn't and so I have to do it all myself. Right now, anything is good. If you guys have any extra details about Mace or Harley, I'll be askin' you next."

The gemsbok calf had finished her bottle and was swaying on her legs, working her throat. Suddenly she let out a colossal belch, interrupting Karma and sending everyone into fits of giggles. The veranda door slid open and Mrs. Madde walked out, yelling with a voice that couldn't possibly belong to her grandmotherly state. "_Ah got a snack fer you boys! Git'cher asses back up here if you've finished feedin' mah bebby_!"

The gemsbok calf cried when they started walking back up to the house, and Karma looked back with an inconsolable expression on her face. "D'you really need to let her cry like that, Fettle?"

"What, i'she weepin'? Oh, poor bebby." Mrs. Madde hurried down to the pen and lifted the grizzling calf into her arms. "Come back wit' Mamma Fettle, ah'll luk afta you. You boys git insa'ade!" Throttle and Modo darted into the house willingly; Fettle followed suit, calf in arms.

Karma smiled, grabbed Harley's folder from the kitchen table and went back outside to snuggle into one of the deckchairs on the veranda. She pulled out a packet of cigarettes from her pocket, lit one, and began to think.

* * *

Throttle went out onto the veranda to try and breathe, only to be met with a cloud of cigarette smoke. Karma looked up at him. "You gonna explode?"

"In more ways than one. Why does she need to bring the gemsbok into the house?"

"She feels maternal. She's lonely. And she's clinically insane."

"The damn thing keeps on showing how much she loves me by running into my knee."

"While Fettle tries to stuff you like a turkey carcass."

"Precisely." He stood with his back to the veranda railing and looked at her beautiful face, wondering for the umpteenth time how she got the scar on her chin. She looked back intently and they smiled at the same time.

"So, Mister Wordsmith."

"So, Miss Tracker."

She chuckled her husky little chuckle. "You want to ask me something." It wasn't a question at all – again, he was struck by her intuition.

"Yeah." He met her eyes. "Are we going anywhere with this?"

Karma kept eye-contact with him. "I'm gonna be straight with you and you alone. Mace will be in the big country by now – it's gonna take a very, very long time to find him, if indeed we do. I've got next to no leads to grab. I've got next to no witnesses from past or present. All I have is a direction and hopefully a laptop that can give me some hints. And I'll be pleasantly surprised if we find either of them." She leaned back in her chair and sucked on her cigarette. "Anything else?"

"No. That's it."

"Good, coz I got one for you. Why the _fuck_ did Carbine lump you guys with me?"

"You still prickly about that?"

"I'm not gonna answer that question. I might incriminate myself." Her dark blue eyes were hypnotic. "Do you know why?"

Throttle sorted through every memory he had of Carbine. Every tear, every scar, every smile, every plan. He thought about their first kiss and their last kiss. He thought about the moments when they began and the moments when they ended. He thought about what she said she had wanted, and what she had done. He thought about when she'd left him, and wondered why.

"I truly have no idea."

"Hmph." Karma's eyes picked over his face. "Neither do I. Which is unusual." She rolled her ciggie between her fingers. "Very unusual for Miss Tracker not to know."

"Maybe she thought you needed more group work, after working solo for so long. Change of season," he half-joked.

"Or maybe _she's_ the one who needs a change of season. She's just scared to take it, because she's reached the top of the ladder and now she can't remember how to climb back down."

"How very profound."

"It's only true. She liked it as General during the war. But the war's over now, and I somehow think it's not as sparkly as it used to be." She peered up at him. "But hey. You're her boyfriend – maybe you know better."

"I'm not her boyfriend." Throttle didn't avoid Karma's gaze. "We broke up months ago."

Karma watched him like she was watching TV. "Damn." That was all she said.

And then; "Sorry."

"It's cool."

Karma looked at him closely, thinking. "You still like her, though."

"I like what she was."

"Oh, so do I. Don't doubt it. I _love_ the person she used to be. But she's not that person anymore, because universal law states that people change." She finished her cigarette and stubbed it out in an ashtray next to her bare foot. There was another scar that glistened slantwise from her little toe across to her heel.

"I've done my thinkin' for today," Karma said lazily. "We've made some progress, I've had some good food and I've smoked." She sat up and stretched her arms to the ceiling, then stopped quickly. "My shoulder's still sore, but I'm not taking very good care of it so that's a given." She glanced back through the glass door. "And I need to find out where Brimstone Valley is. That'll be our next stop. Then I'll ring Hew again, and we'll see if we can do anything with the laptop."

"Do you think we can?"

"That's for Hew to see." She snuggled back into her chair. "You think the tracking business is for you?"

"I dunno. You do all the work. Most I've been so far is bored."

Karma's eyes widened ever so slightly. "You want me to give you more work?"

"It could take my mind off a few things, lets say."

"Hmm." She mused for a few seconds. "Alright then, Mister Wordsmith. I'll see what I can do. Just know what tracking is mostly boring work. Boring stabs in the dark."

"That in itself is an oxymoron."

Karma chuckled again. "I was just thinkin' that. It's a wonder that I've become so well-known. Almost all of the successful assignments I've ever done I put down to luck. And I told you this before, I don't think this one is going to be lucky."

"You haven't given up, though. Have you?"

"'Defeat' are the things at the ends of my ankles. I'm going to do my job the best I can. Call it pre-emptive judgement."

"Defeat on... ankles? What the Hell?"

She raised her eyebrows. "Haven't you heard that phrase? Defeat, _de feet_?" She drummed her feet on the ground. "'_De feet_' are de t'ings at the ends oof mein ankles, jah?"

Throttle laughed for the second time that day.

* * *

"What's the fastest way to get to Brimstone Valley?"

Mrs. Madde was sitting at the kitchen table, cleaning her sniper rifle. Bebby the gemsbok calf was sitting at her feet, dozing. Karma was poring over the map that she had bought at the last service station.

At Karma's question, Mrs. Madde looked up and huffed indignantly. "Whah d'ya wanna go _there_? Horrible this ta'ame o' year… keep goin' up this road, chuck a ra'at at ten kilometres. It won't be on that piece o' crap –" She grabbed Karma's map and wadded it up, putting it in the bin. "Ah'll gitcher mah own." She bustled back out of the kitchen, gun still in hand. "Jus' a sekkind."

Karma rubbed her chin. "How far off-track is it?"

"Ah said _jus' a sekkind_! Lordy, you chilluns be so impatient…" Mrs. Madde was rummaging in some drawers. "Ah don't know where ah put –"

Suddenly there was a loud bang and a yelp. Bebby woke up and screamed, diving under the table. Karma's Derringer materialised in her hand. "_Fettle_?"

There was a cough. "Ah be all ra'at, cha'ald." She came out of a room in the side of the hall, holding a folded piece of paper in one hand and her rifle in the other. "Nah, jus' shot 'nother hole in the roof bah accident."

"Oh," Karma said quietly. Mrs. Madde hurried back into the kitchen and scowled at her. "An' put that gun away. Ah ain't havin' no firearms in mah house."

Karma put her Derringer back under her jacket. "Hey. You heard the lady," she said to the guys, who all had their blasters primed. "No guns in the house."

By now scared thoroughly shitless of this old woman, they holstered their blasters. Mrs. Madde had the map spread out on the kitchen table. "We be here," she said. Karma leaned over her shoulder. "Ya keep goin' up, la'ak ah said. Na'ow, _here_ –" she jabbed at a crossroad with her finger. "It'd tek ya one day, but ya won't see that road anymore, it be covered over. Yer gawn have'ta judge it bah yer own. Tricky business. Area around it be fulla mines, ah'm warnin' ya. There used to be some kids who spent their time dismantlin' them mines, but ah don't know how far they got. You could git some la'ave ones, still."

"How live are they?"

"Nuff t' blow ya in haff. Anythin' smaller than a teenage boy got obliterated." Mrs. Madde glanced up at Vinnie. "You ma'at have some problems wit that."

Karma smiled lovingly. "Don't worry – Vinnie's already proved himself to be bomb-proof." Nobody could tell if it was a compliment or not.

Mrs. Madde shrugged. "You tek yer own path, Karma. Ah'm awny here t' help ya. You ma'at want that," she added, motioning to the map and turning around.

"Is there any other way to get there?" Karma clearly didn't want to go traversing over a highly-explosive minefield.

"Tek ya lot longer. But keep goin' up the main road, eventually there's a divergence."

"How long?"

"Cupola days. Mebbe three. An' you'd have'ta rilly push yerselves."

Karma sat back and thought. "That's our deadline," she muttered to herself. Her eyes skimmed over the map and then suddenly looked up at the guys standing around the kitchen. "Any suggestions, boys?"

They were startled. "Us?"

"No, I was talking to Bebby and momentarily forgot that she is female and deserving of a singular prefix when addressed." Karma gave Throttle a smile that made his heart crack. "You said you wanted more work, I'm giving you more work! Give me a suggestion or piss me off, take your pick."

"Bring us up to speed. I wasn't listening." Vinnie folded his arms coolly.

"You are the most irritating creature alive, Vincent. We need to get to Brimstone in or before three days time. To do that, we have two possible trajectories. One is a mine-riddled pathway that will take us one day or so. The other is a significantly safer canter down the main highway before turning off into a diverging road, which unfortunately is much longer and might make us miss our deadline. Dilemma, boys. _Dilemma_. Tell the pretty girl what to do."

"Ah vote fer safer."

"Safer means cuttin' it very fine if we wanna meet this deadline, Modo."

"OK… so minefield."

"Minefield means possibly being blown up."

Modo looked seriously confused. "Stay here?"

"I'm not going to talk to you anymore. Throttle." She fired her words like bullets. "Suggestion?"

Throttle thought for a second. "We did something like this once when we were scouters together. A camp was facing starvation and we had supplies. Get supplies to camp safely but have some people die from malnutrition, or go over Plutarkian territory, which is shorter, but not safe."

"What'd you do?"

"Do the honours, Vinnie. What did you suggest we do?"

Vinnie's face brightened. "Was that my idea?"

Throttle raised his eyebrows. Vinnie's chest puffed out. "Yeah… that_ was_ my idea. Of course it was – only the Great Vincenzo could think of something as ingenious as that."

Karma was sitting with her chin in her hands, smiling like an angel. "Vinnie. I'm going to castrate you soon. What did you do?"

"We split up."

Karma eyed Vinnie thoughtfully. "Elaborate and apply it to the current situation."

"Two of us go across the minefield; two of us go up the main. The two main-roaders ride like Hell and the two mine-fielders can take their time, because they're closer and they need to be careful of mines. Whoever gets there first picks up the laptop."

"You make it sound like a race, Vincent van Wham."

"It be the awny language he knows, Miss Karma."

"It makes sense, though!" Vinnie was indignant. "If we all take the road, we won't make it in time – you said that yourself. If we all go out on the mine-fields, someone will make a mistake and get blown up –"

"Someone like you?" Karma was smiling to herself. "If we do follow this plan, be aware that I will _not_ be putting you out on the minefield." She leaned her elbows on the table. "Still a good plan, though, Snow-Balls."

"Of course it is. And I put dibs on the minefield."

"Denied. I'm in charge. You go where I say or I'll leave you behind, and this time I'll make _sure_ that you won't be able to find me."

She folded up the map carefully. "We'll follow your plan, Vincent. You'll ride on the main road – you like very fast riding, don't you? You'll have fun with that. Modo, you go with him to make sure he doesn't do anything profoundly stupid. Vinnie, please note that Modo is much bigger than you are and I'll leave it at that. Throttle, you and I are going on a suicide run, so prepare yourself. Fettle, I need ten more rounds of bullets and check if you have any more non-perishables. Everyone check their tyres, water gauges, petrol gauges and suspension. Fettle has everything you need if you have any mechanical concerns. And we'll all be up by four a.m. tomorrow morning, so be in bed by five tonight if you want to feel vaguely normal. You've all got a couple of hours to do that. Any questions?"

The guys stared at Karma with their jaws hanging open. "Were you ever in the armed forces, Miss Karma?"

"No, thank God. Question time's over, kids – run along. Vinnie and Modo, pack a spare tyre and a _spare_ spare tyre each, clear? Now get the fuck outta here. Throttle, a quick word."

Vinnie and Modo scuttled down the hall into the front yard. Throttle stayed behind. "Yes, Miss Tracker?"

"How did that story end?"

"With the supply trucks? They both got through and one citizen died from malnutrition and dehydration."

"Any deaths in the Plutarkian zone?"

"Nope. Three flat tyres in the safe valley around the camp, though."

"I'll take that as an omen. _Boys going on the road, pack three spare tyres EACH_! And you, Mister Wordsmith, might want to squeeze in some shooting practice before the day is done. I'm going to use Vinnie's method to get rid of any live mines."

As she turned around, she almost stepped on Bebby. The calf was still seriously spooked by Mrs. Madde's accidental gunshot, and clearly thought that Karma was deliberately trying to hurt her - she screamed again and wept hysterically, and even when Mrs. Madde picked her up and rocked her like a baby, nobody could seem to make her stop.

* * *

Has anybody ever heard a goat-kid weeping? It's the most heartbreaking sound you'll ever hear. Gemsboks, just in case anybody was wondering, are another creature from the Mad-Eyed Owl universe. On Earth, gemsboks are a form of desert antelope found in North Africa and Egypt. On Mars, gemsboks are a staple food animal, much like cows, and are bred for their meat, their milk and their skins. Cross an Earth gemsbok with a goat, and that's how a Martian gemsbok appears in my mind.

ANYhoo. I know I really shouldn't be asking, seeing as I've kept Chapter Five from you all for about two months... but I'll say it anyway. Review? Please? Just a very little one?

Peace out. Mad-Eyed Owl


	6. Mines, Minds and the Art of Losing it

OH MEIN GOTT! Is another chapter! Please don't kill me, I know I took years and years - but school fell on top of me like a cow from the sky (apparently something similar like that happened in 1945 - a Japanese trawler sank because a Russian cargo plane dropped a living cow from 30, 000 feet. Random), and I had final exams and graduation and whatnot, but seeing as now school has ended for the rest of my life, I have much more time on my hands. Until I start university. Then I will be busy again. But PLEASE don't hate me, kids. Review me instead dodges projectile weaponry.

Alrighty. Here we are with the newest chapter of Karma: Mines, Minds and the Art of Losing.

* * *

"Come on, _boys_." Karma positively purred as she stuck her head around Throttle's bedroom door. "Or 'boy', as it were. Upsie-gets."

Throttle had been struggling to wake himself up since a quarter to three, but his body kept telling him to shut up and go back to sleep. It was a good thing he'd packed everything the night before, otherwise he'd be in the shit. He cracked his eyes open to look for his specs. Karma's voice was surprisingly gentle.

What was she up to?

He barely got his glasses on just as she threw something in his general direction, glancing it off the wall above his head. The lights were slapped on and made his eyes ache. "What the Hell is this? Get the _fuck_ up, Throttle! We've got _half a fucking hour_! Get dressed warm coz it's cold out there – eat something and then we're gonna mosey on out. There is no question of whether you'll be ready, because you _will_ be ready." She slammed the door shut and went to scream at Vinnie and Modo.

_And I was having a really good dream_. His eyes adjusted to the sudden brightness and he realised that she'd thrown his boots at him. _Well, thanks, babe_. He pulled them on, having slept in his jeans anyway. As he climbed fully out of bed, he realised Karma wasn't kidding – it _was_ cold. He could hear her bitching noisily and Vinnie swearing at her across the hall. There was a thump as Karma launched some projectile weapon, and then another when Vinnie launched it back. "What the Hell is _wrong_ with you, woman?"

"Oh lovely, you're out of fucking bed now. Guess the time, Snow-Balls – it's just turned 3:31, so you got _twenty-nine_ minutes to _get out of here_. I told you to be up _long_ before this!" She stomped down to the kitchen.

Throttle had packed two shirts, his vest and a jacket that he'd bought just before going on this mission. Might as well get some use out of it. He put it on, grabbed his bag, yawned and walked down the hall. The smell of pancakes pulled him on teasingly. Hmm. Tease. Teasing was fun…

There was a howling "_maaaa!_" and he looked down to see Bebby flopping delightedly towards him, her head just level with his upper thigh. He stepped out of the way just in time and the calf charged past him, galloping onwards down the hall. There was a thud as she collided with something hard. Throttle didn't turn around to see what she'd just hit, instead picking up his pace. The bruise on his thigh was still throbbing in remembrance.

Mrs. Madde was braced at the stove, clad in a khaki-green dressing gown and a bandolier of heavy ammunition around her torso. Throttle had to blink twice before it registered. She turned around when he entered and smiled at him pleasantly. "Mornin', boy. Sit at th' table, ah'm almost done wit'cher breakfast."

It was still dark outside – but of course it had to be, it was only half past three – and Throttle sat down at the table in a heady attempt to try and prevent himself from pulling a narcoleptic. Karma was sitting next to him, gnawing on a piece of toast and gulping at a cup of coffee. "Have some. Doesn't taste like gelignite, but has the same effect." She pushed a boiling coffee pot towards him. Throttle took it blindly with a blur of thanks and poured himself a mug, gulping it in two mouthfuls.

Karma raised her eyebrows as he tried not to choke. "Warned ya." She sipped her own mug meaningfully and went back to the map.

There was a wail from up the hall. "Bebby, honey… give uncle Modo back his boot. _Please_ be reasonable…"

Bebby cantered back into the kitchen, giggling to herself with one of Modo's boots in her mouth. Modo came stumbling after her, looking like the walking dead – Vinnie followed suit. Mrs. Madde looked over at their antics and smiled. "Aw, lookit that. She be playin' wit'cha."

"Ma'am, with all due respect – she's stolen mah boot."

"Aw, she awny playin'. Siddown n' eat somethin'. Beh-_bee!_" Mrs. Madde snapped. "Put the poor dear's boot down, ta."

Bebby surrendered the boot with a thump and scuttled away to hide under the table. Karma nudged her with her toe and Bebby laid her head against Karma's shin, whickering softly. Karma peeked under the table and grinned. "Isn't it exciting? Everyone's awake at the same time so they can play with _you!_"

Bebby bleated and sprang back onto her deficient feet, clopping out and butting her head against the wall in the process. She plopped down on the ground and gave a startling yawn, then twitched her ears and shook her head.

Karma simpered. "You're makin' me broody, Fettle."

"_Ah_ am mekkin' _you_ broody?" Mrs. Madde turned around, astounded. "You sure you had 'nuff sleep, priddy girl?"

"No, no, I mean Bebby. You adopting Bebby is making me broody."

"Bebby is a gemsbok calf. _You_ need t' have yer own chilluns. Eat somethin'." Mrs. Madde shoved an intimidating pile of pancakes in front of Throttle. "You eat too. It be cold out there n' you need somethin' in yer belly."

Throttle tucked in without a word, realising that he was probably never going to taste pancakes this good again. Karma didn't seem to be particularly interested in eating – her dark indigo eyes were feeding off the map.

"Fettle, can I be really annoying?"

"Course you can, honeychile. Eat somethin'."

"Are you absolutely sure this is to scale?"

"Absolutely sure."

"Abso-fuckadoodle-utely?"

"Ah'm not usin' that language. But yes. Ah'm absolutely sure. Eat somethin'."

"Yes ma'am." Karma took another bite out of her toast.

Mrs. Madde put more pancakes on the table, complete with a bowl of cream and syrup. The boys tucked in with murmured thanks and she stood back with her hands on her hips, grinning like they were her own offspring. When Karma put down her coffee mug and made as though she was about to get up, Mrs. Madde dived into the kitchen and was back again just as Karma started to say, "Finish up, boys, we're gonna g –"

"Git back here, priddy girl." Mrs. Madde cut her off with a wild wave of her hand. "Ah ain't lettin' you outta mah house wit'cher hair la'ak that." She took a few steps forward and Throttle noticed she was brandishing a brush.

Karma gazed at her in despair. "Fettle –"

"Sherrdup n' eat somethin'. Yer boys ain't even finished yet."

"Fettle, we _need_ –"

"Siddown."

Karma sat down.

"Eat somethin'."

"I already have."

"Good. Jist sit there." Mrs. Madde undid Karma's plait with a flick of her wrist. "Lordy, chile. You ain't never gawn luk afta yer hair proper."

"No time."

"Always ta'ame enough in the world t' mek yerself luk good." Mrs. Madde sank the teeth of the brush into Karma's mane and started grooming her meticulously. "When's the last ta'ame ya gave it a proper goin'-over?"

"Don't ask. You'll kill me."

"Ah rilly din wanna know anyway."

Throttle didn't waste any time in grabbing a few extra pancakes, always watching Mrs. Madde brush Karma's hair out of the corner of his eye. When they were younger, Carbine had long hair too – though not as long as Karma's. And not as shiny. As Mrs. Madde untangled the knots, he counted the streaks in her hair vaguely. White stripe, black stripe. Silver, ebony. Inlaid against a sheet of gold leaf.

Mrs. Madde tucked a strand of Karma's hair behind her ear and Throttle spied another scar above her temple. He also spied six stitches in it.

Mrs. Madde saw it too. "Dint you git this fixed?"

"Get what fixed?"

"Ya still got yer head sewed up."

"What?"

"Ra'at there." Mrs. Madde poked Karma's head. "That be, what, two months ago?"

Karma touched the stitches in confusion. "Where did… crap, I completely forgot about those."

"Damn Hell, chile. Next ta'ame you comin' here, ah'm givin' you a full goin'-over. You be so _forgetful!_ Ya never luk afta yerself!" Mrs. Madde set off down the hall to get the medibox again. Karma ran her fingers over the stitches lightly.

"This is intensely embarrassing," she said to Bebby, who was sitting on the floor with her front legs splayed. "Huh, girl? What you think?" She reached over and rubbed Bebby's knobbly head. "Reckon I should blush? Think I should take her up on her suggestion? Should I look after myself like you did?"

Bebby made a maa'ing sound and pouted, lipping Karma's thumb. Karma kept talking like she'd forgotten the guys were there. "You're a lot smarter than I am, pretty baby. You got hurt and you looked for help. I'm already hurting so much that I don't notice it anymore." She tapped Bebby on her soft pink nose, causing the calf to sneeze. "It'll be the death of me."

"You be yer own worst enemy if that be the way it is, Miss Karma."

Karma's ears twitched. "It's my job, Modo. I find people and I do it at all costs."

"Was that meant to be funny?" Throttle raised an eyebrow.

Karma smiled. "If you were a tracker, you'd get it."

"Ah. Innate humour."

"In-_mate_ humour."

"Now I'm just confused."

"Good. I don't want you to understand."

Mrs. Madde came back with a pair of sewing scissors and some disinfectant pads. "Hold still, chile." She pushed Karma's hair out of the way and snipped through the stitches in angry silence. It was a ten-second job, since the wound was so old. Mrs. Madde smeared the disinfectant over it and reached for the brush again. "Ah'm not impressed, Karma."

"I know."

"You be jist la'ak mah daughter. Rush was always runnin' off t' the rescue. Always comin' back wit scars n' burns n' shots. She never lukked afta herself either." Mrs. Madde picked at an especially large knot in Karma's hair. "You think you kin save the world all at once, chile, n' you think you don't matter so much – evvyone else jist gits hurt n' you gotta stop that fr'm happenin'. Mah daughter was jist the same. An' she died doin' jist that."

"It's my _job_, Fettle. Get over it." Karma was getting very snappy. "You're not my mother. You're my informant. You –"

"_If_ ya gawn go save the world, priddy girl, ya gotta mek sure that _you_ are OK. If pillars get weak, the whole damn roof falls in."

"Thanks for the lecture, Fettle. But I'm not Rush."

Mrs. Madde didn't say anything else.

They sat in silence, only broken when Bebby occasionally sat up and bleated conversationally. Mrs. Madde finished brushing Karma's hair and started winding a long and complicated braid through it. Throttle finished his pancakes. Modo stuck his finger in the bowl of cream and let Bebby lick it off.

"Modo, that is disgusting."

"Bebby don't seem to mind, Miss Karma." The calf agreed with a nicker. Karma changed tact. "Did you pack all your supplies last night?"

"Pretty sure I did."

"Go and check. Spare tyres, full tanks, water and food. You too, Vinnie."

"What, now?"

"Yes, now."

"But I already –"

"_Now_."

"Karma, what the –?"

"Just do it." Her voice was tight. Mrs. Madde glanced at Vinnie meaningfully as she swept up a stray lock of Karma's hair. Vinnie and Modo vanished.

Karma looked at Throttle out of the corner of her eye. "You've got all your stuff." It wasn't a question.

"Yeah."

"I already know. I checked your bike before going to bed." Her eyes flicked back to the front again. "You really don't need to take five packets of iced biscuits."

"I was feeling peckish."

Mrs. Madde chuckled. "Karma, yer bein' ridik'yellus. Let the boy tek what he wants."

"He's only taking up space that he doesn't need to –"

"It won't hurt ya," Mrs. Madde crooned, "t'let 'em have a liddle bit of control. An' it'll hurt even _less_ –" her hands pulled the end strands of Karma's plait together, "t' jist trust 'em a bit." She tied the plait off and smiled. "There. Meks ya luk lovely. Lets evvyone know what beautiful hair ya got."

"Thanks, Fettle." Karma stood up slowly, feeling the braid. Then she suddenly turned around and wrapped her arms around the old woman, holding her tightly. "Thanks for everything."

Mrs. Madde's smile grew wider. "It's alright, priddy girl." She chucked her chin. "It'll be alright."

Karma's mouth twisted and smoothed out. She nodded once. "I'll see you." She folded the map, put it in her pocket, grabbed her bag and marched out of the kitchen without a backward glance.

Mrs. Madde turned her eyes on Throttle, who raised his eyebrows. She shook her head. "Karma is how she is." She began to clean up the table. "Better git goin', boy."

He stood up and took his bag. "Thanks for breakfast."

"S' no trouble. Ah la'ak visitors." She motioned to the corridor. "Off ya go."

"Take care, ma'am." He followed Karma down the hall.

Vinnie and Modo were already on their bikes, looking agitated. Karma was flicking her eyes over the map for the hundredth time. "You ready?" she asked without looking up.

"As I'll ever be."

"Excellent. Ready, Baby?"

Baby snarled like a puppy playing tug-of-war. Karma smiled. "OK. Let's go."

* * *

Karma didn't keep her eyes on the road, as you should when you're driving in the dark. She kept her eyes on her speedometer, counting how many kilometres they were travelling. As a result, she was riding slowly – and as a result of that, she was wobbling every now and again. And it was irritating Vinnie. Really, really badly.

"Karma, what are you _doing?_" he snapped as she dipped to the left yet again. "Are you _drunk?_"

"I'm looking for the exact location of the path that is supposedly mine-free. And this is the only map that is set to a scale that shows me said exact location."

"This is so… _boring_."

"Shut up, Vinnie."

"Gimme that." He tried to snatch the map away from her hands. Her eyes burned with rage and he withdrew his hand. "I'm in charge, Vincent."

"Hmph."

Karma turned to Throttle and Modo. "Turn your lights on high-beam and start looking at the left side of the road for anything that might resemble the beginning of a track. It should be a few hundred metres either way."

"But Mrs. Madde said it was grown over."

"With what? It's the middle of the freaking desert, Modo."

"Disused, then."

"It'll be there! Just _look_ for it!"

But there was nothing to look for. The road was black and the dust was orange and brown, glittering strangely in the bikes' torchlight. There wasn't a path of any sort to see, despite Karma's insistence that there was. Throttle watched her, going so slowly her bike was in first gear and was wavering from side to side. "Karma. I don't think it's here anymore."

"It's here!" she growled. "Turn around and look again."

"But –" _Whoops_.

"But nothing. Turn around and look again."

They wheeled around and trundled back down the road, looking for a thing that just wasn't there anymore. Throttle wondered how this was going to work out now. They'd have to scrap the minefield plan. Everyone had stocked up on full tanks but it was going to be a hard ride down the road and if they missed whatever deadline Karma wanted to meet, it was going to be tough, even if they rode through both nights. There was no other way they could –

"Hold it, boys." Karma slowed down abruptly. "I think I just found it."

There was a tiny indenture in the road that led to the side, out of consistency with the straight-as-lace borders. _What, is that it? _This_ is what I'm following?_ Throttle couldn't help feel slightly underwhelmed. If you didn't look closely enough, it was frighteningly easy to miss.

Karma pulled out her Derringer and looked over the rocky plain judiciously. She fired a bullet into the ground four metres away. Nothing happened.

"Hmm." She holstered her gun. "Well, boys. This is where we part ways."

"Nice knowin' ya, Karma."

"A pleasure, Vincent. An absolute pleasure." She dismounted and took off her helmet. "Well. See you on the other side."

"Which other side?"

"Take your pick. Could go either way."

Modo leaned over and gripped her shoulder. "You be careful, ma'am."

She smiled at him. "Never am I otherwise. You too."

"Yes, ma'am. Be careful, bro."

Throttle punched fists with him. "Will do. See you in a few days."

Modo and Vinnie took off.

Karma glanced at Throttle. "C'mon, then. Off your bike."

Throttle dismounted with judicious care. "We're still going to walk on this thing?"

"Indeedy." She narrowed her eyes and swung Baby around so he was facing the plain. She turned his headlight on highbeam. "Ah-_ha_. There you are." She raised her gun-arm and fired into the ground again.

The plain erupted in rage as she hit the very mine that both she and Throttle had been hoping wouldn't be there. The noise was earsplitting and throbbed in their throats, and when the dust finally cleared, a two-foot crater was embedded in the ground.

"Fuck. Me. Stupid." Karma twirled her Derringer around her index finger a few times. "This place isn't defused at all."

"Karma, this is suicide."

"You're not the only one shitting yourself, Throttle." And she stepped coolly off the side of the road.

* * *

They walked in single file. Karma was the one who went first, so it was Karma who shot mines out of the ground. She seemed to like it, at least – Throttle got the feeling that she was letting off some steam by blowing small and not-so-small craters into the face of the earth. Their pathway was a series of indents blown through the ground, because ironically they were the safest place to walk on. _Strange how I still think in 'Earth' metaphors._ But then, he missed Earth. And he missed Charley. And the peace.

"Keep your eyes open, Throttle." Karma was talking to him. "There might still be mines at the sides."

"OK."

They'd been walking for a few hours. The sun had risen angrily and set the plain ablaze, making shadows black and metal sizzle. So far there hadn't been any incidents with the mines – Karma had a knack for spying the little lumps that stuck up ever so slightly out of the ground. Her aim was very good. He'd offered to help her at first, but she said she'd be fine. She definitely was.

She looked somewhat like a mirage right now, gun-arm raised, eyes squinting, jacket shucked to reveal a bandaged shoulder and a lot of flesh and fur. Like one of the strong-willed, violent, sexy female Freedom Fighters who had been so glorified when he was a kid. Hard and compassionate at the same time.

"Throttle! Pay attention!"

He still hadn't figured out why she was so pissed-off about their company. Her response had been too simple and she wasn't the kind of person who sulked for a long time. She was practical. She would roll with the punches and do the best she could. And if it was too difficult to do her best, she'd hit the road. She hadn't done that again, when it would be so easy for her to do it.

When they first set foot on the plain, Karma said it was eighteen kilometres to Brimstone, and that they could easily make it in a day. Twenty minutes and twenty-six mines later, she'd said they'd camp here overnight. The mine-field was still very much alive, and despite the fact that Karma's aim was good, there were still a lot of mines to shoot if they wanted to have a clear path.

Karma paused to reload her Derringer and he stopped behind her. "Why do you use a projectile?"

"Because it doesn't melt in my hand. And it's safer."

"Blasters don't need to be reloaded. They don't give kickback, either."

"Blasters melt through your skin like coals on a dead pig. If I ever use this on a person, I don't shoot to kill. I shoot to wound. If my target runs in broad daylight, I'm not gonna kill them by accident." She pulled the primer back and flicked the safety catch off. "You OK?"

"Yeah. Why?"

"Just askin'." She aimed at a mine that was dead-ahead. _Boom_. "Watch your step."

He could see the scar on her back, the one across her shoulderblade. He wondered how many she had. How long had she been a tracker? Since she was eighteen, she said. But she couldn't be any older than him – maybe twenty-four.

"Um, hello? Explosive material under your feet! Stop dreaming!"

"_Alright_, woman!"

"You're not alright! You're not paying attention!"

"Neither are --!"

"_Don't talk back!_"

"I'm walking on a bomb! I'll talk if I want!"

"_Shut up!_"

"_You_ shut up! You're the one who wanted to go running over a mine-field!"

"_And you came with me, dipshit! So shut up!_"

"You wanted me to come!"

"_So why did you?_" She turned around and shot three more mines, fury searing through her head. "_Why are you still here?_"

Throttle stopped to catch his breath. They _were_ stressed. Maybe they should take a breather for a bit.

He took a step forward, trying to stay inside his crater. "Hey --"

And then he heard something click under his foot.

Throttle had only stepped on a mine once before in his life, and that time it had been defused. This one was not. He heard Mrs. Madde's voice; _anythin' smaller than a teenage boy got obliterated_. Meaning these were bigger-than-normal mines.

His heart suddenly leapt into a rapid pound, filling his chest and then his gut with wave after wave of panic. He stayed very still when all he wanted to do was run. _Get AWAY_. And there was a little whisper in his head, one that said oh yeah, he was fucked.

He'd stopped walking the second he knew he was standing on death itself, and Karma turned around to snarl at him. "Why have you –?" Then she saw the look on his face. "Oh."

He didn't say anything.

"Easy." Karma moved slowly. She propped up Baby and talked to him with backbreaking care. "You shift your weight and we're both sky-high."

"Yep."

"Do somethin' for me." Her voice was suddenly gentle. "Just look up at the sky. Think about how it looks. If you see any clouds, figure out what shape they are." She began rummaging through her saddlebag. "And don't look down."

"What're you doing?"

"I'm gonna defuse it."

"Do you have a fucking _death wish?_" He laughed suddenly. He couldn't stand here forever. If he lifted up his foot he was going be blown to smithereens and she was getting _closer_, not _away_.

"Just look at the sky for me, huh?"

He gulped and did as he was told.

_Well, shit_. Karma bit her tongue hard to stop it from uncurling anymore. But _really_. Jesus. She'd chosen Throttle specifically because she thought he wouldn't step on any marsh-eggs.

Then again, it could've easily been her.

Just as well she'd brought her tool-kit with her. Heh, not much of a kit. But anyway. She pulled out her cigarette lighter and the pair of line-hooks that Skelter had given her for her birthday this year. _Oh, Skelter. I may even really marry you for this_.

She knelt down next to Throttle's foot and then sighed. The shape of the mine was flat and circular, designed specifically so that it would be harder to defuse. She wriggled down to her stomach and laid her head in the dirt. _Yuck_.

She blew the excess dirt away from the base of the mine so she could see better. She took a deep breath and slid one of the line-hooks underneath the left edge of the mine.

"You _do_ have a death-wish."

"I told you to look at the sky, fuck it!"

Throttle was incredulous to see that she was fiddling blindly with the wirings of a mine. A _live_ mine. He thought fleetingly back to the Plutarkian war, and how many soldiers had eventually been killed because nobody was game to fidget the mines they were standing on. This woman had either been born with an extra set of guts or she had no idea how ugly this could get.

Karma was trying to remember exactly how you did this. You tapped the underbelly of the mine so you knew where you were. And you tapped _gently_. Low clinks meant she was tapping the outer layer of metal, which was useless. Sharp tocks meant she was tapping the second inner layer of the mine, which covered most of the soft spot. She had no idea why it was called the "soft spot." It referred to the heart of the mine, which housed the weight sensors, internal wirings and stimulants for the aforementioned.

Oh yeah. And the explosives were somewhere in there as well. And explosives didn't talk to you with a clink-clink or tock-tock. If you hit them softly, they said nothing. If you hit them a little harder, they went off.

To defuse a mine, you had to try and snag one of the wires that were connected to the explosive, pull them towards you and burn through them. Tricky enough, but trickier when you couldn't actually see them. And if the wires were really short and couldn't be pulled far enough to be burnt through – _but I'm not going to think about that_.

Karma closed her eyes and tried to listen to the line-hook tapping against the belly of the mine. Clink-clink. Nup. She wriggled it to the left. Clink-clink. Nope. Left again. Clink-clink-_tock_.

Karma tapped again. _Tock_. Alright, so she was close. She shifted the hook just a centimetre over and tapped again. Tocking nicely. Maybe this would turn out OK. She wriggled back on her elbows and started fishing for a wire. Any wire would do. They were all connected to each other and were part of the chain that would allow the mine to detonate. Knock one out and they all went down. She twisted her hook, frowning. What was the problem? There didn't seem to be any wires available to _snag_.

Maybe she wasn't over far enough. She frowned. Well, OK. She shifted the hook over another two centimetres or so – there should still be a bit of room before she hit the explosives – and tapped in question. When she didn't hear anything, she tapped a little harder. _Um, hello?_

Still there was no sound. Suddenly she jolted. _FUCK! _It took her a second to realise that she was knocking – silently – on the detonator's door.

_Fuuuuck_. She withdrew and moved the hook back to the right. Jesus screwing Christ. The explosives in these things were _gigantic_. If she hadn't woken up to the fact that… oh God. That was too close, girl, that was way too close.

She tapped tentatively with the hook. _Tock-tock-tock_. Well, tock-tock to you too. You great metallic lump of ludicrous explosive potential.

Martians do not have the physiological capacity to sweat, as part of their evolutionary adaptations to living in arid environments and inheriting fur as a happenstance. But God, Karma was damn near close to squeezing out some perspiration. All of sudden she was facing something that she knew she couldn't handle. She'd defused live mines, but not ones like these.

And there was one – actually two – lives that were hanging at her fingertips. One of which was her own.

"What's the problem?"

"Throttle. Shut up. And look. At the godforsaken sky."

She withdrew her line-hook and rubbed her forehead involuntarily. Alright. So maybe it wasn't so bad. Maybe the detonator had been knocked around when it was planted. Maybe it had been broken out of its castings and it had been shoved over to the left-hand side. Maybe it wasn't as big as she thought. Maybe if she started from the _other_ side, she might find a few wires to burn.

She squirmed over on her belly and slid the hook over to the right. Clink. Clink. Clink-clink. Clinking…

_Tock_. Sweet Lord. Karma bit her lower lip and started feeling around for a wire. None. None. For God's sake, why are there _none_? With a flinch she moved her hook further to the right and tapped timidly. There was silence. _Oh God. This thing really is as big as I thought_.

She moved her hook away and realised she'd just bit through her lip. The tock-tocks were being joined by a loud thudding in her ears. _Shut up! Let me think how I can save him!_

Throttle was starting to get pins and needles in his leg. He looked down and watched Karma as she twitched her hook around, her face becoming steadily more distressed. _Christ, woman. Come on. I know you can do this_.

She glanced up at him, like he'd said it out loud. He could see blatant fear in her eyes and something red was smudged over her mouth. Then her ears twitched.

And she winked at him.

"You'll be OK." She looked back at the mine and started working again. "I'm almost done."

She was lying. But it did the trick.

Karma bit her lip again and then recoiled from the pain. _Please_. She felt around again for a wire. _Please, please_. She imagined them snaking away from the tip of her hook.

And then she felt a pull.

"Tolja." She said it without thinking. The sigh that Throttle let out made her physically relax. _You're gonna be OK_. She tugged on the wire gently, trying to draw it out. It stayed put.

_Easy_. Clearly this one was too short, but that was OK. She let it go and probed around for another. _Come to mama, honey_.

Another pull. She grinned and tugged on this one as well, meeting no resistance. Slowly, she drew the wire away from the soft spot and under the armour. The hook slid back through the dirt and the wire followed meekly. Karma let out a sigh of relief.

The wire pulled tight as she did.

Karma wanted to lie there and sob. _Almost, just almost!_ If she were a child, she would have pulled it until it broke and then the whole thing would have gone off. But she wasn't a child. She needed the damn thing out where she could _see it_. She needed to burn through it, defuse the goddamn mine, and then they could all go home.

The wire stayed put, no matter how gently she pulled. Throttle looked down at her again and thought he saw tear-tracks. He wasn't sure, though, and maybe he was wrong – if she was crying then something had gone awry, but if she wasn't, maybe she was just concentrating and then it would –

And then pins and needles roared up his leg, so much so that it convulsed against his will. And his weight shifted, and his foot moved, and he slipped off the disc of the mine.

It clicked up.

They both went off like gunshots. Karma screamed. And kept screaming. She rolled over once, exploded onto her feet and stared at the mine, eyes wide and mouth gasping for air. Then she stared at Throttle, panic morphing to confusion when she saw that he wasn't dead. Both of them were panting.

Karma's eyes dropped back to the mine, which was sitting there quietly, half-covered in dirt. Throttle heard her grind her teeth and she walked up to it with a maddened self-confidence, like she was going to punch someone. She nudged the mine with her booted toe. And stepped on it. The gauge clicked up and down cleverly. The mine remained unignited.

"It's a dud." Karma's voice was crackly. "Just a fuckin' dud."

_Oh_.

She looked back up at him, eyes still wide and chest still heaving. "You… you're OK?"

"Havin' a fucking heart-attack, but yeah." He didn't know what pushed him to say that. She kept staring at him fearfully. "Yeah. I'm OK."

Karma took out her Derringer calmly, took three steps back, and shot the mine. It stayed there silently like a corpse. "You little whore," she spat. Then her eyes cleared. "Shit. That was dumb."

"What _was_ that, woman?"

"I don't know." She looked back up at him. "Are we dead?"

The absurdity of her question just set him off. Throttle laughed. He didn't know why but he had to. He relished every fistful of air that left him, and every fistful that he took back. Then Karma started laughing too, like a bell tolling, and he didn't know if he stepped towards her or if she stepped to him but they ended up gripping each other clumsily, distracted from a real embrace. Her face was three inches from his and she was smiling gorgeously, her breath playing on his cheeks.

"Please." She dissolved into giggles. "Pretty please. Just watch where you put your feet."

"For your sake, pretty lady, I will."

She looked into his eyes boldly and grinned. Then her laugh changed, and she did that sexy, maddening little chuckle that sent tingles buzzing over him. Most notably in one particular area.

"Come on, sugarboots. We'll walk until the sun goes down."

"After you."

"I'm charmed." She brushed past him and put Baby back up straight, leaving him in a complete daze.

Up until that last moment, _pretty lady_ was a term that had been held with a distinct amount of Carbine exclusivity. And he'd just uttered it, this sacred epithet, without having a single clue as to why.

"Hey Throttle."

"Yo."

"Walk beside me."

* * *

I'm not very good at writing tension, but this is OK for a start. And what about the blooming something-or-other between Throttle and Karma, eh? Eh? Good, eh?

Stay tuned, kids.

Mad-Eyed Owl


	7. Skulldents

throws self on ground in agony I'M SO SORRRYYYYY! My computer died and the computer man took it away and HE DIDN'T GIVE IT BACK FOR FOUR MONTHS. I only got it back last week and thank GOD everything was still there. I now have a new computer and I'm going to be updating regularly. PROMISE.

It's late here now, lieblings, so I'll be brief. This is a pathetically bad and rushed chapter, but I had to get the ball rolling again. More to come. Welcome once again to Chapter Seven - Skulldents.

* * *

The plain didn't get better. It got worse. The further they went, the more mines they shot, and even though Karma now allowed Throttle to assist her in blowing them out of the ground, it soon became more of a task to push and pull their bikes into and out of the rapidly expanding craters they made. Karma figured out why it was getting harder – the mines they were shooting were now in conjoined triplet and quadruplet sets, and were designed not to incapacitate, but to quite literally obliterate. They were also all crowded, and were pretty sensitive to disturbances. Some of them were so close they went off in succession like a chain of firecrackers. It was stressful when they did that.

"What time is it?"

"I don't wanna know." Karma was leaning on Baby and having a drink. "It's time for a cigarette."

"We're gonna have to set up camp soon."

"Are you for real? We've only covered about five kilometres!"

"We've covered nine, babe."

"Still not good enough. I was hoping to be almost there by now." She tossed her water flask over Baby's handlebars. "Maybe this wasn't a good idea after all."

"We've already got this far."

"Hmm." She got out her cigarettes and lit one, chewing on the end of it. "Sun's getting low."

Throttle glanced up at the sky, and then back down at his feet. "I still don't quite understand what made me do something this dangerous."

"Because I have a nice arse."

"Apart from that."

Karma leaned on Baby and gave him the weirdest look. It was something between amusement and confusion. "You're extremely, confusingly weird."

"And you're extremely bitchy. When you want to be."

"And you're honest."

"And you're hot. And you know it."

Karma giggled loudly, sending out a lungful of smoke prematurely. "Funny." She sighed and put Baby back on his wheels. Throttle suddenly wondered why he thought of Baby as male – but then, AI tech bikes were usually programmed to be the opposite sex of their riders. It was the way they developed. Unless…

Like magic, Karma began to croon to her bike. "Lookit Baby. All messed up and dirty. I don't know why I let my pretty girl get this way. Service for you next stop, OK?"

Baby rumbled in agreement.

Throttle raised an eyebrow over his shades. "Baby's a girl?"

"Yeah. What's your point?"

Throttle raised his other eyebrow. "It never struck me that you were gay."

"_What?_" Karma swung around in astonishment. "Just coz Baby's as chickie as they be doesn't mean I'm dyke as a ditch."

"You know the theories."

"Yeah. I do." She harrumphed indignantly. "But I liked Baby more than any of the others. I hate men."

Throttle's eyebrows went even higher. "That so?"

"None of your business, Mr. Wordsmith. But I'm not a lesbian."

"I believe you, pretty lady." He remembered something. "Harley's bike was a girl too."

Karma looked up. "That so?" she said in echo. The cigarette burnt out. "Interesting."

"Is it?"

"Not really. Well, trivially. But not _important_ interesting." She ground out her cigarette irritably with her toe. "That could be another lead, though. Where's her bike?"

"On the scrap heap. Got blown up during the war and she never got time to get another one."

"Blown up by what?"

"A mine." Throttle smiled grimly and didn't know why. Karma laughed quietly, like a predator. "That's an omen I really don't want to believe in." She looked up again. "Come on. Let's forget this. Make camp."

"My stories startin' to scare you, Miss Tracker?"

"They got me tremblin', Mister Wordsmith. Tremblin' like a bitty baby." She looked around. "You see anywhere where we might pitch up?"

"Oh, sure. Lots of places. Y'know, coz a minefield is such an awesome place to camp."

"Stop whinging, will you?"

* * *

Twenty minutes later, Karma and Throttle were peering nervously over the edge of a crater that may or may not have been caused by a small meteor. "Shit."

"This was _your_ idea."

"And what, you'd rather sleep on a mine? At least all of these ones went off."

"You think."

"I _hope_."

"This was still your idea."

"If you had any balls, you'd go down there and _check_ if there were no more mines left. But seeing as you don't, it looks like _I'm_ going to have to do it." Karma slid down the shallow crater on her backside without another word.

It was really Throttle's fault. He'd shot a firecracker mine and it had set off a chain reaction that went in a perfect circle. Karma then suggested that it would be perfect for them to sleep in the ensuing crater, brilliant idea Throttle, and had proceeded to merrily shoot what Throttle perceived to be every live mine within a ten metre radius. She was now stomping theatrically on the spongy sand of the crater's floor. "Wow. No mine here. Oh _look_, I don't see a mine! There are _no mines down here_." She threw herself on the ground and rolled around in the dirt.

"Are you fucking _crazy?_"

She laughed and laughed. "Nah. I'm just dirty. Get down here, Baby!" It took him a moment to realise she was talking to her bike and not to him.

They hadn't brought a tent, due to reasons a) Karma: "There'd be no way in Hell that I'd share a confined space with you anyway," and b) Karma: "I'm not carrying it," so they were stuck with sleeping bags. They both knew it would get cold, but that was a catch they were willing to ignore. They'd spend nights in the desert before.

Karma lit a small fire with the oil cooker she'd brought and sank into an introverted bubble. Throttle was hoeing into his purloined packet of iced biscuits. Karma was on her fourth cigarette and was looking slightly forlorn. "Hey."

"Yep."

"…Do you have any iced biscuits left?"

Throttle smiled slowly. "I thought you didn't want them."

"Screw you. Gimme one."

He chuckled and offered her the packet. She perused them carefully and took two, pink and yellow. "I'm glad you brought these with you."

"Taste good with tobacco?"

"Everything tastes good with tobacco." She pushed the two of them together so the icing got squashed up and popped the whole thing in her mouth. He watched her jaw muscles work as she chewed contentedly.

"Riddle me this, Miss Tracker."

"Affer ah 'inish."

He waited until she swallowed her biscuits and then said, "Where do you think Harley will be now?"

Karma shrugged. "Dunno. Probably big country."

"Where's that?"

"Anywhere you fuckin' want." She stopped to lick her fingers. "Somewhere where there aren't many people – or people that only Mace will trust. I don't know. I'm counting on this laptop we're getting."

"All on a laptop."

"Uh-huh."

He bit into another biscuit and thought. "How many cases have you done?"

"Jeez, I dunno. About a hundred."

"Any of them like this?"

"Trudging through a desert, getting my info from singular sources with little to no backup, you mean?"

"…Whatever this is."

She paused for a moment. "No. None quite like this."

He sat up on his elbows. "How good are you at tracking?"

"Considering the fact that this planet is so screwed up… I'm the best you got, baby." She giggled at him.

"What are the chances of finding her?"

"Let's see. I didn't want to do this job in the first place – I'm here under duress – and Mace was given a couple of day's headstart before I was even called. Hmm. Difficult. Would slim to none be good?" She reached for another biscuit but Throttle pulled them out of her way. She frowned like a child. "Hey. I answered your question."

"So Carbine's paying you to run around in circles?"

"Looks like it," she said brightly.

"Why would she do that?"

"You're askin' _me_, Throttle?" He was thoroughly distracted for a moment when she called him by his name, not his nickname or some other less affectionate soubriquet, and she took the opportunity to dive on the biscuit packet. "Look, I don't know. Guilt? Carbine's got a lot of guilt. She got a lot of people killed in the war. That's why she was such a good general, you know that! She sacrificed a lot of things, including her own corps. Maybe this is her penitence for her many sins." She licked off the icing from a pink biscuit. "Personally? I don't care. I'm getting money. I'm doing my job. I have to now – it's the law."

"You hate that."

"Oh yeah. I don't like being at the beck and call of some high and mighty bitch. I don't like being at the beck and call of anyone. But hey," she sighed, "I'm getting paid. So that eases the pain."

"So tracking's all about money?"

"It's a living." She tilted her head to one side. "But it's not everything."

"What do you mean?"

"Why are _you_ so freakin' interested?" She half-grinned crazily, licking some pink icing from the corner of her mouth. "I like my job. End of subject."

He leaned back again and looked at the stars as they popped into view. He could remember times like this, a very long time ago, when he was learning how to scout. He was still a cadet, a skinny little thing when he thought about it now. He'd had a girlfriend, his bros, a lot of happiness in his heart. He'd still been a kid who looked at the world but couldn't quite believe it. He'd had the most amazing instructors and year group in the world – quite literally, actually. The kids in his cadet year had been the very essence that had turned the war around.

It got him thinking again, about those years and his instructors. And then he thought of something else.

"When Mrs. Madde was talking about her daughter…"

"Don't start." Karma was leaning back on Baby, looking at the stars.

God, was she always like this? He was bashing into wall after wall after wall. "It was only a question, woman."

Karma sighed. "It's none of your business. Fettle has a mental illness and believes that I'm her daughter reincarnated."

"She called her Rush."

"Yes."

"As in Rusher Dispatch?"

Author's Note: In the Mad-Eyed Owl universe, Rusher Dispatch was a highly decorated heroine who was married to Stoker and was the other founding parent of the Freedom Fighter movement. She was phenomenally talented and worked extensively in scout and missionary work to rescue and relocate refugees and dispossessed citizens. Was killed in a Plutarkian ambush while on a mission trying to rescue a large group of asylum seekers. There will be more about her in Mad-Eyed Owl's work "Sortie and the Heartstitch", to be released at a later date.

Karma was silent for a long two seconds. When she spoke again, her voice was softer. "Yes. Did you know her?"

"She was one of my instructors when I was in cadets."

Karma didn't say anything.

"And if it's any help, you're nothing like her."

She laughed at that. "Good to know." A pause. "I heard she was a good woman."

"A fine understatement, Miss Tracker, but yes, I'll accept that."

"She was married to Stoker, wasn't she?"

"You know Stoke too?"

"Know him, but we've never been introduced. Did some jobs for him during the war, but he always sent a scout to fact me up." She chewed on her cigarette, thoughtful. "Funny kinda guy. Sent all of his messages through a voice recorder and he was pretty blasé. Not someone that I'd expect to be in charge of a massive Freedom Fighter movement."

"Did you know that he was with Harley as well for a while?"

"Fuck me dead. Is this girl your groupie or something? No, I did not know that."

"Maybe you could have an interview with him or something. I dunno, do your tracker take-note thing."

"I'll see. God, Carbine has done _nothing_ for me! Subject in intimate relationship with Freedom Fighter leader would have been _miiiighty_ nice to know…" She reached up and pulled out Harley's folder, writing on the back page with a pen she pulled from her breast pocket. "How long were they a couple?"

"A while. It was sort of unofficial for a bit. Say six months?"

"That's long enough. And Mace and Stoker were close, from what I gather. Or at least while Mace was disguised as a Mouse."

"Well… fairly." Throttle kept his eyes on her now. She was tapping her pen on the paper, her cigarette dribbling ash from the corner of her mouth.

"Has Stoker ever been involved with anything that might have been suspect?"

"I don't like where you're heading, Karma," he said quietly.

"Where _am_ I heading, Throttle?"

"If you're thinking along the lines of Stoker and Mace working together for the Plutarkians at some point, then I retract my statement. I meant to say that I _really_ don't like where you're heading, Karma."

Karma looked up at him piercingly. "I'm not. By 'suspect', I meant something that could have damaged his position as leader of the FF organisation. I wasn't referring to corruption."

"Why do you want to know?"

Karma sat back and lit another cigarette. "Here's how the play could pan out. Curtain rises on Act One of the Stoker Saga. Enter Stoker. Fine man, bit of a sleaze but in a good way, leader of the Freedom Fighters and a better-than-average tactician. Enter Mace. Big guy, good-looking, _nice_ head on his shoulders, secretly a Rat from the eastern province who's been hired by the Plutarkians to do a little undercover work. Stoker meets Mace, thinks Mace is good guy, works closely with Mace and they form a little companionship in relation to getting the stinkfish off the planet. Sound good so far?"

"Keep going."

"Say – just _say_ – that Stoker did a little dabbling with the wrong kind of people and made a few mistakes at some point during the war, resulting in some important people getting killed. Hey, this is hypothetical so the plot keeps moving. Say that Mace, while doing his Sir Spyalot stint, stumbles across this information and thinks 'Ah. If I expose this information, the Freedom Fighters will go insane. They're mostly angry kids at war, impulsive, they'll throw him out for sure. And then they'll require a new leader. Someone tough, similar to Stoker in tact, and has something to his name that will _definitely_ make him look like a good guy.' Any candidates? Have a stab, Throttle."

"That would be Mace. Because all of Stoker's other close associates – who would otherwise take his place – would be suspected of having done the same illegal thing. Whatever that might be."

"Nicely done. If Mace becomes the leader of the Freedom Fighters, they're profoundly screwed – which is what he wants. So, Act Two of the Stoker Saga commences. Curtain goes up, and what have we here? Mace is confronting Stoker, saying he's got damning information and he's going to blab all over Mars, nyeah-nyeah. Stoker, however, has a much steadier head than Mace first thought, and isn't swayed by this at all. He knows he's got the loyalty of his soldiers and they won't give him up, coz everyone fucks up occasionally. Mace thinks 'OK, so this won't work. What's another way I can get him out of a job?' Enter Harley, a pretty little blonde thing who is so much younger than Stoker it's almost obscene, but is still in a relationship with him. Mace knows that Stoker absolutely loves Harley, and decides to play on that. He reveals himself, kidnaps her, and then sends Stoker a message saying that if he doesn't step down, he's going to shoot Harley between the eyes. End of Act Two."

Throttle thought about this for a while. "So why isn't she dead yet?"

"Ahh, good point. Instead of blackmailing Stoker, Mace could've kidnapped Harley as a prisoner-swap. Give yourself up to me and make me leader of the FF Army, and I'll release your girl. That kind of thing could still be ongoing in Mace's mind, even though the Plutarkians can't flick a fin anymore without the Tri-Galactic Federal Police running in and screaming 'everybody get down on the floor!'. He might not even be aware that the Plutarkian War is over."

"Couldn't blame him for that."

She did her sex-cherub chuckle. "Me neither." She rubbed her forehead. "Actually, that's the more likely scenario. Sorry."

"For what? Damning my gracious leader?"

"Yep. That." She reached for a third cigarette, and then paused. She counted how many she had left, and her eyes widened. "_Ten?_ Fuckin' _ten_. Where did you _go_…?" She stuffed them back into her jacket pocket grumpily. "OK. So let's write down these theories before we forget them." She began to scrawl on the note-taking pages of the file. "Scenario A. One: subject was in close contact with Stoker, the then-leader of the FF movement. Two: subject's abductor was also in close contact with Stoker. Three: possibility stands that the subject was abducted as such to coerce Stoker to resign from his position as leader of the FF, as was the abductor's initial intention."

She drew a line and started again. "Scenario B. See above One and Two. Three: possibility stands that the abductor discovered AYH information about Stoker –"

"What's that?"

"As yet hypothetical. I'm just gripping at straws here."

"Why do you need all this hypothetical stuff anyway? All you need to do is find Harley. You don't need to know _why_. You're a tracker, not an officer of the court."

She paused. "Technically, yes. Practically, no." She shifted so she was more comfortable. "It helps you understand your abductor more. If they did something that was totally logical and well-planned, you got a problem. That means that they're smart and they're more than likely to do a runner. If they've done something that was just fucking insane, you've got an even bigger problem. Coz that means they aren't scared of you." She thought about it. "And sometimes there isn't really a reason for you to be tracking them at all, because they haven't actually done anything wrong."

"Such as?"

"My last job was about three months ago. Real tiny stint. Little girl went missing and her mother was going insane, saying she'd been abducted. She hired me and I found the kid with her dad. Turns out the parents had gotten divorced and the mother wasn't following the custodial orders of the child. Her father finally got sick of it and picked the child up from school – _as was his right under court of law_ – and took her home to his place. Didn't even flick his tail out of line. The kid was totally happy."

"How does that even apply to this case?" But Throttle already knew.

"Well… anything can happen."

"You've got a sick mind, woman. I mean, really sick."

"It's happened before. Guy pretends to kidnap forbidden girl so it doesn't took too weird when they just disappear together. Young kids tend to overdramatise the whole thing – and Mace and Harley were both pretty young at the time."

"Harley _hated_ Rats from the depths of her heart. She saw her father get shot in the head by one when she was a kid."

"Uh-huh. And Harley is no longer a kid." She finished writing down her points in the file and stuffed it back in her saddlebag. "Give you another reason why I need to know the motives?"

"This is like swapping stories, woman."

"I'll take that as a 'yes'." She lay back on the ground. "If something goes wrong and we end up having a confrontation, I'm going to have to talk Mace down. And it really, _really_ scares people when you tell them exactly what was going on in their head when they kidnapped or murdered someone. They go to pieces and think you can read their mind. With certain exceptions."

"When they're _out_ of their mind, I gather?"

"Well… yeah. Pretty much, yeah. China Blasko, for instance. I tried the whole negotiating down-talk with her. She listened politely, we exchanged pleasantries and then she shot me in the head."

"In your _head_?"

"Turns out I got a mighty thick head. The bullet only pierced the first lining of my brain. My balance has never been quite the same since, but I'm OK." She giggled then at his thunderstricken face. "Show you the scar." She parted her hair on the right side of her head and sure enough, glistening white, there was a perfect circular scar that was sunk into a dent in her skull. "Just so you know I'm not lying. You can touch it if you want, I don't feel anything."

He could have fitted the end of his index finger inside that dent. It made him want to shudder. "Why did you even come back to work?"

"Hospital and brain-scans made me bored."

"I'm really starting to doubt your state of mind."

"You ain't the only one, sugarboots." She yawned widely and settled back on the ground. "Try and get some sleep. I'll see you in the morning."

All he could dream about was a girl pulling bullets out of her head and sniggering to herself.

After that, there was nothing.

* * *

That is all, bubbles. Critique away.

Mad-Eyed Owl


	8. A Clear and Sincere Screw You

Please don't kill me. I started uni. I got a boyfriend. I have lots more excuses. But enough! I've finally finished chapter 8, and I promise you'll love some of it. Other parts, well... might not be so good. But anyhoo. Review, my chilluns.

Karma: Chapter Eight

A Clear and Sincere "Screw You"

* * *

Karma woke him up gently. Instead of screaming, she shook his shoulders. "Get up, big guy. Come on, I got some breakfast."

He could smell smoke and grease. "Whuh?"

"Food. You're good at food, aren't you?"

He sat up. It was still fairly dark and freezing cold, despite his jacket. His back was stiff from lying on the ground.

"What's that?" he said warily as he spied a fire glowing underneath the gas cooker about two metres away.

"I saw a bird. I felt peckish." Karma was moving slowly back towards the fire, her back hunched. She must have been just as sore as he was. "We need a reward for tromping so merrily around a minefield, and it's too fuckin' cold to sleep. Thought you might want some."

Throttle felt his spine crack as he got to his feet. "Shit." He followed her and sat down opposite the fire. He was highly intrigued to see a plucked bird thrown on top of it. Not even a pan or anything. Just the bird and the flames, steadily blistering.

"This wouldn't be an example of how you cook at home, would it, sweetheart?"

"What? You got a problem with my cooking, punk?"

"Hey, I haven't tasted the thing yet."

Karma shot a hand into the fire and turned the bird over with a flick of her wrist. "Urgh. I am _that_ cold." She sat back, blowing on her hand and then tucking her knees under her chin. "The thing was almost dead anyway. Might as well give it a nice farewell."

"Shooting it, pulling all of its feathers off –"

"– There weren't many feathers left _anyway_ –"

"– and throwing the whole thing on a fire."

"Well, yeah." She began sucking her fingers between words. "Like I said, I was peckish."

"I didn't hear you fire the gun." Damn, it was freezing.

"I know. Though you were snoring so loud I could understand why."

"I do not snore. And I have lots of witnesses who can verify that for you."

She grinned at him, shivering weakly. "Well, either you were snorin' or the earth was movin'…"

"You'll never get a boyfriend if you're not nice, Miss Tracker."

"Hey, in case you forgot, Skelter proposed to me over the phone a couple of days ago." She poked the bird with her finger swiftly. Small flames singed the fur on her hand. "C'mon, you ugly duck, cook…" She sat back. "Well, not really a proposal. More like a 'you've got no choice' sort of thing."

"Seems to me it's a frequent occurrence."

"Well, yeah." She smiled and shook the hair out of her eyes. Her breath misted in front of her. "He likes me. Has done for a while. And he knows where we stand, but he's wont for trying." Her eyes drifted down to the bird again. The scar on her chin twitched as a muscle moved. "I dunno. He's a nice guy. He was my mentor before I went tracking solo."

A drop of fat exploded out of the fire and landed right below her eye. "Ow! _Son_ofa –!" She rubbed her cheek hard. Throttle laughed. "I think the bird's ready."

"Har-di-har-har." Karma dived into the fire again and pulled the barbequed bird out by one blackened leg. She threw the carcass onto a rag in her lap and rubbed it hard, getting the ash off. "This is something I learnt when I was living out."

"You lived out? As in _out_?" Throttle was surprised. To "live out" was a Martian euphemism for reverting back to the old way of living off the land, reflecting the nomadic tribes from a long time ago. It was you, your bike, your gun and the sun.

"Yeah, I lived out. For a little while." She said nothing more about it. She finished rubbing off the carcass – which, as far as Throttle could see, was still black as black could be – and turned the dishcloth over. "Tastes good hot or cold, crunchy on outside and smooth on the inside." She snapped off one of the bird's legs and gnawed on it. "Dare you."

Throttle was extremely wary, but pulled off the other leg all the same. The skin was disgusting and tasted like smoke, but then he bit through it and was met with a tangy, tender sort of meat that reminded him of Chinese food back on Earth.

Throttle was extremely surprised. "This ain't bad at all, babe."

"Don't you know it, honcho." She might have winked at him.

The bird vanished quickly. Throttle was mortified to find that Karma hadn't gutted it and all the innards were still intact. Karma plucked out the heart and goaded him to eat it – he declined politely and then watched in fascination as she shrugged and ate the thing herself. They were like a couple of kids, seeing how far they could push at the borders. Feeling challenged, he proceeded to pick out the biggest bones, break them with his teeth and suck out the marrow, which as it turned out had been liquefied and was still warm. Karma laughed and laughed. "Oh, that is _foul_."

"Good source of nutrition." He offered her one.

"Not for me, honey."

"Hmph. You should talk. 'She _ate my heart_ when she tore it in two…'"

"'So I _broke her bones_, snap, one then another…'"

"Oh, touché."

"As if I wouldn't know the rest of that song. Seriously. 'Pretty little thing, she was ripped in her head –'"

"'And I remember when her mother said 'She'll end up dead!' Oh, lovely little horror in the barmaid dress, with a hitch in her stocking and a chord in her breath' –"

"Oh, let me finish it, let me finish it!"

"Go ahead, pretty lady."

"'And her kisses were the sweetest like the bullet in her gun, with a one-two _bang!_ She was numb – and it was _SO MUCH FUN!_'"

They finished picking at the remains of the bird after a while and then kicked the carcass around, trying to warm up. Eventually it just fell to pieces and maybe it was the cold, but there was something so innately funny about seeing the damn thing bouncing in all directions. They went back to the fire and plopped down at either end. Karma reached for her cigarettes, lit one from the remaining coals and then glanced at the horizon. "Sun's almost up. We gotta get movin' soon."

"How far have we got?"

"Mmm. Not a clue. My guess is three or four klicks. If we take it easy, we should get there before the deadline." She glanced at the sky again, then shook herself. "Wonder how the other guys are doing."

"Dunno. They'll be OK."

She shrugged and sucked on her smoke. "Yeah. I guess they will." They sat quietly as she finished her cigarette, ruefully enjoying the dying heat from the coals, until Karma buried the butt in the sand and stood up. "Summon thy courage, old brother. There's much ahead, and nought behind."

"Where'd you hear that?"

"I just made it up. C'mon, _bro_."

Even though she put cruel emphasis on it, Throttle convinced himself that she meant that last word.

* * *

Three or four klicks, she had said. It felt much longer. The sun rose and seared over them pitilessly, and the mines littered their way. They bulleted a trail through the minefield. This was never going to end.

But all of a sudden, they got there.

Karma stopped very suddenly. The sun gleamed through her fur. "Hey Throttle."

"What is it?"

"Do you see any lumps?"

"Lumps?"

"Mine-lumps. In the ground. Do you see any?"

Throttle turned in a full circle, searching for those tiny bulges in the earth that were pregnant with death. "I do not see any lumps."

"Nor do I." Karma's eyes drifted across the whole horizon, not really looking, like she was too engrossed in her thoughts to bother. "I think… we just crossed Mars' biggest minefield and lived."

"_Hell yes_!" Throttle was jubilant and proceeded to show it by punching the air and dancing around his bike. "_I'm alive_!"

"You're such a dork."

"I'm a happy dork. I'm a _living_ dork." He dove on her to hug her and didn't care when she went stiff as a board. "Whoa, that was a rush. Let's never do that again."

"No. Let's not." Her voice was cold, but he still didn't care. Some kind of euphoric rapture possessed him. He would have hugged her again, but he didn't.

Karma delicately settled herself on Baby and got out their map. "We should beeee… here." She pointed obscurely. "Or here."

"Where?"

"Here." She jabbed a finger at nothing in particular.

"We're in the middle of freaking nowhere."

"Mm-hmm." She folded up the map carefully. "This is problematic." Her words were mincing out of her mouth.

"Where's the road?"

"Tis not here." Her eyes were shadowy. "This is very, very problematic." She got up from Baby and walked forward.

"Where you going?"

"I have a very bad feeling."

"About?"

Karma suddenly stopped walking. "About _this_."

Throttle didn't get it. He walked towards her and stood at her side.

They were standing on what felt like the edge of the world. The ground fell away quite suddenly in a stiff precipice that had merged perfectly with the line of the horizon until they were right on top of it. Beneath them was a clean, long valley, sliced into the ground with the eerie exactness of a river that didn't exist anymore, and beyond, the beginnings and endings of mountains and crags.

Throttle turned around and looked at the flat expanse of the minefield, and then before him again, at the sweeping cliffs, the dry gullies, the remains of old rock whistling in the wind. And something else, right in the centre of it all.

"I spy with my little eye…"

"A very big pile of nothing."

* * *

Brimstone Valley was a nice place once. The Plutarkians made sure it wasn't by the time the war was over, even if they lost. Some of the gullies and valleys around the mountains were natural, and were narrow, twisting like reptiles. Others were caused by explosions. The mountains that used to stand here had been worn down and worn down until they had been almost rubbed off the face of the planet.

They found a narrow path into the valley that had been cut into the rock. Throttle doubted it had been used for a long time. Karma's face was drawn, and they didn't speak to each other.

Before them lay Brimstone, backed by a sloping, sharp cliff on the left and the exhausted remains of a mountain on the right, which sagged sadly like an old, broken thing. The dusty riverbed cut in front of them and ran in either direction for miles and miles.

Brimstone itself had been a city, not a big one, but it would have been pretty. The area was rich in marble rock, as evidenced by the churning mishmash of black and white and pink that danced in the rubble stone along the outskirts of Brimstone. There were remnants of walls and roofs and streets, and of the bomb-blasts that brought them crashing down.

The road had survived fairly well, but it was narrow. It wove in and out of the vestiges in gentle curls, but there was nothing to see. Brimstone was an abandoned ruin. Nobody had lived here for a very long time. There was no reason to stay anymore – there was no water.

Karma was looking everywhere as they wheeled through the monoliths. "This can't be right."

"I was thinkin' the same thing."

"Where is everyone? I thought it'd be a utopia or a town, not a –" _BANG_.

A sizeable rock sailed out of nowhere and smashed into Baby's chassis. Karma very nearly went flying. She braked so hard that Baby screeched angrily, Karma chorusing in kind. "_You little SHIT! What do you think you're_ doing?" She got off her bike and dashed behind a low wall. "_Get out of there! How DARE you_!"

There were a couple of yelps and Karma reappeared from the other end of the wall, chasing three kids. They shot across the old road, only to have their way blocked by Throttle.

Throttle got off his bike. "Karma! Calm the fuck down, they're only kids."

She was breathless with rage. "They just threw a _rock_ at Baby!"

"Is your fault!" yelled one of the kids, a boy with brown fur.

"_Shut up_, kid!"

Throttle grabbed her arm and lowered his voice so only she could hear. "Be quiet. They might know where Brimstone is."

"The Hell they –"

"Do you want to find it or not? Let me talk."

Karma gave him a venomous glare. "Knock yourself out." She marched back to check on Baby.

Throttle considered the three kids in front of him. There were two boys and a girl, probably siblings. They all had dark brown fur and were dressed in green. _Combat gear?_ None of them had shoes. The girl had a round helmet on her head that was too big for her. It slipped over her forehead as she met his eyes fearlessly.

"What are you doing here?"

"This is our fort!"

"Is it?"

"N' you trespassing! Trespassers will be prosecuted!" she chanted, clearly not fully understanding exactly what it meant.

"Sorry we trespassed. We're looking for a place called Brimstone. Do you know where that is?"

The kids glanced at each other. The oldest boy spoke up. "We live there. But its secret."

Karma looked up from Baby. "We're looking for Fattie's Drop-Off. I have a date there."

The kids raised their eyebrows as one. "A date?"

"You know where that is?"

"We can show you."

"Good." Karma stood up. "You're very lucky you didn't injure my bike." Throttle noted how she used the word _injure_ instead of _damage_. "Is there a mechanic too?"

"Not where we live. But we have a pit."

"A whah?"

"A pit." The girl looked at Karma witheringly. "You coming?" She set off up the road. The boys followed her.

Karma muttered wrathfully as she took Baby by her handlebars and began to wheel her along. Throttle followed, watching her in wary amusement. She could almost be comical when she lost her temper – it just depended on who was on the receiving end.

The kids talked amongst themselves indistinctly, looking over their shoulders every now and then. It was as though they couldn't quite decide what to make of Karma or Throttle. Karma had settled comfortably on healthy, organic resentment, and gave them filthy looks whenever they looked her way. When the trio suddenly diverged off the road and headed for a wall in the valley, she yelled at them. "Where are you going?"

"We goin' home! You hafta follow!"

Karma didn't say a word, but bristled with suspicion as she followed. Throttle was fairly dubious as well. There was nothing where the kids were headed except more bombed-out miscellany.

Throttle looked at Karma. She was biting her lip in that way that said she really wanted a cigarette. "Oh, for fuck's sake," she muttered. She wheeled Baby off the road.

The kids skipped onward towards the cliff, jib-jabbering away. One of the boys turned around. "We can onny go one at a time."

"What?"

"You'll see."

The little girl suddenly skipped ahead, giggling. She ran straight for the cliff wall – and completely vanished.

Karma's mouth dropped open every so slightly. The boys stayed behind, looking at her with shameless amusement. "One at a time." They disintegrated through the wall, _into_ the wall.

Karma was still staring. "Is that a… what _is_…?"

"Come _on_!" said the little girl's voice. "We not wait fer you!"

"Oh, _this_ I gotta try." Karma walked briskly towards the wall. "_This_ has got to be –" And she just evaporated into the stone.

There was a howl of laughter from the other side. "Throttle! Check this out!"

Throttle still couldn't get his head around this. "Karma! Where are you?"

"Just walk to the wall! It's OK!"

Not wanting to be left behind, Throttle approached the wall apprehensively. "What is it? This thing?"

"You'll see! I can see you right now – don't worry, just go through the wall."

Throttle hesitated, and took a step forward. The little girl's voice piped up. "Do it quickly, or you ruin it! Be fast!"

Throttle took four more steps – and the cliff wall fizzed around him.

"Come on! Quick!"

With a strange tingle running through his fur, Throttle passed through the wall as though there was nothing there at all.

It was dark beyond it – the first thing he saw was Karma's smile glittering like a beacon. "How awesome is that?"

"What is it?"

"It's like Mars' biggest fuckin' hologram _ever_! Look where you are!"

Throttle looked up and his mouth dropped open. A massive chasm arched above him, its walls sloping up as though to embrace the sky. He looked behind him, and could see the remains of the old Brimstone.

"And look through there." Karma pointed. "This is brilliant." He'd never seen her so pleased about something.

Beyond the chasm was a gigantic crater, around four kilometres wide. And inside that crater, at its very heart, was the real Brimstone.

* * *

The kids told them the whole story as they skidded down the steep, loose roads beaten into the sides of the Brimstone Scoop – as this was what they called it. "A big bomb. It blew out the whole side of the mountain, and made this hole. They don't 'member it, but I do. An' we din't wanna leave, so some people stay here and hide in de hole. An' we make the hologram so it hides us, so nobody bothers us."

"It's brilliant." This seemed to be Karma's new favourite word. The kids agreed.

"My daddy is very clever. He make dis _whole_ place." The little girl spread her arms in a wide arc. "An' he's the boss, he's like a _king_ –"

"He not a king, Survivor!"

The girl called Survivor pulled a face. "Is so. He better than _you_."

"She just wants to be a princess," said one of the boys to Karma, in deliberately hushed tones. "Princess 'Vivor."

"Sounds like a good deal to me."

They reached a barely-there road on the crater floor. Brimstone sprawled before them like nothing Throttle had seen before. It was enormous and stretched across the crater as far as it could go, but the buildings clung closely to the ground, and nothing was more than two storeys tall. There were some slabs of marble that might have been dragged down from the mountains, but Brimstone was more or less a large utopia, made of tin and scrap and mud and heart. A lot of heart.

Karma turned to the kids. "Can you show me Fattie's Drop-Off?"

"Up dere." Survivor pointed to the far left, at a tiny building sitting in the shade of the crater. "It's apart from everything else… coz nobody likes it."

"Why?"

"Bad people go there sometimes." One of the boys shrugged. "People we don't know. They come and they go."

"Sometimes dey don't come back." Survivor readjusted her oversized helmet and pouted. "We need to go now."

"OK, kids. Thanks." Karma's eyes were resting on the lone building, so far away from the destitute bustle of the rest of Brimstone. She didn't even wave goodbye as she wheeled Baby into the empty yard.

"Ah." Karma made it sound like she'd just had a refreshing drink. "Fattie's Drop-Off." She kicked Baby's stand out from beneath her wheel. "Wow. It's wood."

"It is too." Fattie's Drop-Off was a small stilted bungalow with a shaded veranda and steps up to the door. The wood was dry and cracked, but it wasn't about to fall down. Someone had tried to paint it orange, but had given up halfway through. The paint had blistered many times in the sun.

Karma sauntered up to the veranda and looked at it closely. When she didn't see what she wanted to see, she began looking around the sides of the shop. Her shadow embraced the dusty walls and ambled ahead of her, seeking as she did.

"What're you lookin' for?"

"None of your business." She took a peek around the back of the drop-off. "Hmm."

Throttle didn't ask anything else, but watched her intensely. She scratched the back of her neck casually, her eyes vaguely interested as though an unexpected development had just taken place. "Hmm-hmm-hmm." She kicked some dirt with the toe of her boot.

Finally she turned around and walked up the steps to the drop-off's door. A bell rattled above their heads as they closed it behind them.

"Anyone here?"

Her voice sounded hollow inside the wooden building. There were boxes all around the edges of the shop, with a wide counter at the far end. Karma strolled straight up to it and yelled. "Hel-_LOOO_!"

Like magic, a kid popped up from behind the counter. "You yell too loud, lady. I was busy down there."

"You're not responsive enough to begin with. How was I meant to know?" Karma gave him an angel smile. "This _is_ Fattie's Drop-Off, isn't it?"

"More or less. Why?"

"I got to pick up a delivery from the White Rose."

"The who?"

"It's just a delivery."

The kid was at a blank. "Um… OK. What kind of delivery is it?"

"Look. Maybe your boss hasn't clued you in. Let me talk to your boss and we'll keep this pleasant." Karma was downright bullying the kid – Throttle couldn't help thinking that it wasn't quite fair. The storeboy fled around the back of the shop.

Karma sighed and hung her head. "Is this so complicated? I want a package. I get told to pick it up at Fattie's Drop-Off. I do what I'm asked, do everything right…"

"Canna be helpin' ya, ma'am?" A thunderous voice rumbled from above. Karma looked up expectantly and her mouth dropped open. A woman of gargantuan size glared down at her from deepset eyes, her ham-hock arms braced on hips that were buried under layers and layers of fat. Her voice was thick and flabby, perhaps because her mouth was surrounded by jowls of bloodhound proportions.

"I'm assuming you're Fattie," Karma breathed.

"That I be. Don't much care who you are. You wanted a package or were you just gonna push 'round my brother here?"

"Sorry about that. I've just come from a hard journey n' I'm a bit tired. No hard feelings, huh, sport?" Karma winked at Fattie's brother. _Smooth as caramel_. "I just need to pick up a delivery from the White Rose."

Fattie didn't even bat an eyelid. "We don' know who packages be from. We onny know who they be to." She looked Karma up and down, as though wondering what would happen if she snapped her in half. "What be in yer package?"

Karma was silent for a long, long second. Emotions passed over her face like clouds over the sky. _The whole Plutarkian War must be going on in her head right now_.

Throttle spoke up. "It's a surprise. It's for her."

Karma turned her head slowly and gave him a look of pure, psychopathic murder. He ignored her. Fattie leaned in with sudden interest, a smile eroding its way across her portly face. "Be itta ring?"

_Oh Jesus_. "No, but it's along those lines." Throttle leaned in as well, lowering his voice. "I forgot our anniversary, see, and I have to make it up to her. I really need this for her. It's a big surprise, she's been waiting for it for months. _Please_ don't say what it is. Just check for any packages from the White Rose, yeah?" He did his darndest to look worried and eager to please.

Fattie was clearly a bit of a romantic. She nodded enthusiastically. "I mek dis one a special order. Don' worry, I be sure to find it." She lumbered out the back again.

Throttle didn't even spare a look at Karma. "You're welcome."

Karma's silence was enough. _Thanks_.

There were crashes and curses in Misaa as Fattie and her brother turned out every corner in the back storeroom. Karma's fingers creaked in their leather gloves as she clenched and unclenched her hands. _My my. You're very stressed_.

Fattie shambled out again, muttering to herself in her half-talk. The look on her face was enough. Karma seethed.

"I be very sorry, but there not be a package from… White Rose." She lolled over the last two words, like she knew exactly what was going on. "You were expecting it, I gather?"

Karma suddenly stamped her foot. "Honey! You said it would _be here_!" Her blue eyes burned into his. _Play along with me. PLAY THE FUCK ALONG_.

He put his arm around her softly. "I'm sorry, baby. I thought it would be here."

Karma laid her head on his shoulder and he could smell her hair. How could she stay in the desert for a night and still smell sweet? "Why isn't it here?" She turned to Fattie, who looked heartbroken. "Are you sure it isn't here?"

"I be sorry, madam." _Madam? Are you serious?_ "It not be here."

"Dammit!" Karma stormed out of the drop-off like a classic spoilt girlfriend having a hissy-fit. Throttle wanted to applaud her. Instead, he apologised to Fattie. "Sorry. I just really thought it would be here. I forgot our anniversary." Then he ran out after her.

Karma gave him a look out of the corner of her eye. _Keep acting until she can't see us anymore_. She began to howl as they walked down to the bike shed. "You _promised!_"

"I know, baby, I know. Maybe tomorrow? I could take you out for lunch. We'll check back tomorrow, I'll make it up to you –"

"That was excellent. You can stop now."

"Thank God."

Karma kicked at the dirt, this time having a genuine hissy-fit. "Why. The _fuck_. Is it not _there_? We reached the deadline, right? He can't have recalled it! Why _is the fucking heap of crap NOT THERE_?" She swung a punch at Throttle all of a sudden – he blocked it with an open palm, but his wrist still creaked. "Ease the fuck up there, pretty lady! I'm not a punching bag!"

Karma looked taken aback, maybe even aghast at what she'd just done. "Hell. I'm sorry."

"Take a chill pill. This is OK. Why would it be recalled?"

Karma reached Baby and threw herself over her bike like a child throws themself on their bed. "Usually there's a contact there. Somebody I might know or somebody I'd know for sure was a contact. Usually they look dodgy, out of kilter at best. They're the ones who carry the goods. If you don't reach them by a deadline, they 'recall' themselves. These people don't hang around forever."

"That was what you were looking for before."

"Yep." She sighed and closed her eyes. The scar on her chin was going into spasms. _Is she about to cry?_ "When I didn't see anyone, I thought maybe Fattie would be the contact. Turns out she isn't. Turns out there's no package." _She IS about to cry_.

Throttle wasn't sure what to do. If he reached over and touched her shoulder, she might bite. Karma wasn't the kind of person who would want to appear vulnerable for even a second. But she definitely wasn't fighting those tears. She looked totally forlorn.

It was kind of cute, really.

"Hey."

"Don't say anything. I've fucked up somewhere." Her voice was even huskier than normal. _Oh God, please don't cry. I don't want to see you cry. I don't know who'll be more embarrassed_.

Karma opened her eyes and gazed spitefully at the ground. Her eyes were narrowed as though she was looking in the sun, even though she was sitting in her own shadow. "I don't know what to –"

"Hey _losers_!"

Karma sat bolt-upright, clearly dying for an excuse to beat someone shitless. "What the fuck do you want, wanker?" she roared. There was a loud '_oooh_' from across the yard. "Easy, hater. We come in peace." Two guys were leaning on their bikes, smirking at them. Their backs were to the sun, and their faces were obscured as they began to approach.

They were angelically familiar.

Vinnie couldn't help himself and laughed. "Hey kids. Good to see you're not dead. And guess what? We have a present for you." He held up a gleaming silver laptop over his head like a trophy and grinned at them like he'd just won the world's biggest race.

* * *

They sat at an outside table on the veranda of the only pub in town – it was funny how regardless of how bombed a place could be, the pub always remained – and ate hasselback potatoes with cheese for lunch. Even Karma joined in, though she only had a couple of them, but she did appear to enjoy them. She even talked to Modo and Vinnie, and was civil enough. She even said she was happy they got through OK. No "piss off", "jump off a bridge" or "go fuck yourself". It was a strangely civil meal.

Modo and Vinnie had ridden through the night without a break, and had figured out by themselves how to get the laptop. The road they took had turned curtly and had brought them straight to the front of Brimstone, where most of the trading took place. They arrived nearly a day before Karma and Throttle did, had found a creepy-looking girl hiding around Fattie's proverbial Drop-Off, and took a leaf out of Karma's book. "I did my thing – well, _your_ thing, sort of – and so we got the goods." Vinnie leaned back and put his feet on the table.

Karma looked vaguely interested. "My thing? What'd you do?"

"Remember when you wanted Modo to flirt with that shopgirl way back when?"

She eyed him in sudden suspicion. "Yeah…"

Modo speared a potato on his fork and waved it around. "He went up to her and said 'You got a package for me? Cos I've got one for you, if you want it.'"

Karma sprayed a mouthful of root beer in Modo's direction and stood up. "_What_?"

Vinnie nearly fell out of his seat. "What is your _problem_, woman?"

"You got the package by saying… _what_ did you say?"

"Karma, sit down. The locals will think you're a drug-runner."

Karma sat down, but stared at Vinnie with bulging eyes. "You have got to be shitting me."

Vinnie regained some of his composure. "Turns out she'd had a long trip and was hungry. So we took her to lunch, and she seemed to regard it as payment – so we got a pretty laptop."

Karma reached absently for her cigarettes. "Vinnie, do you even know who the White Rose is?"

"No."

Karma considered him for a moment, then put up a hand. "That's a good thing. OK. So you got the laptop. That's good. That's really good, and that's for both of you. But if you ever have to do something like this in your life again…" She stopped. "You honestly got the goods by flirting with her? Because that is _skill_."

"What's your point?"

"A lot of the people who work with and for the White Rose are – how do I say this? Oh, _I_ know! _Fucking insane_. They will blow your head off with a rocket launcher that doubles as an exhaust on their bike because _they feel like it_." She huffed on her cigarette. "Either way, it doesn't matter now. I'm glad you got the goods before the contact left. Thank you, both of you. But _honestly_." She smiled and rubbed her forehead. "You're crazy. But that's cool."

She reached over the table to put a hand on the luminous silver laptop. "So…" she considered it carefully. "All this trouble for one little laptop."

"Why do you need it anyway?"

"Hew reckons he could find out where she is through it." Karma didn't look up.

Modo raised his eyebrows. "She ain't been usin' the laptop fer years."

"I know. Hew wants it, though. He reckons he could use it – look, I don't know how, but he did it once before and it worked. I don't get computers –" She was cut off as her mobile rang. "Hang on."

She pulled it out of her pocket. "Yep?"

"You're in trouble, Miss Supersede."

Karma's mouth dropped open in incredulity. "How the _fuck_ did you get this number? I thought I –"

"So far you've defied military orders, you've completely ignored your new obligations _and_ you haven't called me." Carbine was livid.

"Honey, these things take time." Karma got up and began to pace around the veranda of the pub. "Military orders are dumb. My new obligations don't allow me to carry out a proper job. And I wasn't aware that you _wanted_ me to ring you so we could chat. Are you lonely, honeychile?"

"You're getting way too smart, Karma. We're paying you to do a job and so far you're not doing it. In fact, you're tiptoeing into arrest."

Karma rolled her eyes as she walked down the stairs to the parking yard, looking for a bit of privacy. "Carbine, shut up. I know how much I'm getting paid. But this isn't an easy job to do."

"If this is beyond your expertise, then we don't need you."

Karma opened and closed her mouth several times. "_Beyond_ my – I triple-fucking dare you to say that again, General."

"Don't swear at me."

"Don't put _shit_ on my job. You know what I can do. I'm the best you've got. I _know_ people that your other trackers don't. This is why you gave me the dragon's den, isn't it? Because I have those connections."

"You're only one person. You're good, but you're slower than normal."

"Oh, and _why_ do you think that would be? Could it be because this case is cold enough to supply me free air-conditioning for the rest of my life? Could it be because you were slow to recruit a tracker team once a male Rat was sighted? Maybe it's because you saddled me with three guys who have little to none tracking experience. Or _maybe_ it's because you've organised this shoddily." Karma took a deep breath and let it out again slowly. "Look. So far we've got one lead and we're going with it. If you wanna complain about things not clickin' like clockwork, go and bitch to Scabbard. OK? Lovely, thanks Carbine, bye."

She hung up, turned her phone over and pulled the battery out. "If she _ever_ rings me again in that kind of mood, I will shoot my phone. And I don't want to shoot my phone." She lit another cigarette and marched angrily around in circles a few times, puffing on it. "Why is she _like_ this? She was never like this before. Hey!" She whirled around at Vinnie, who had just tried to turn the laptop on. "Don't you _dare_ touch that!" Vinnie's hand scuttled away fearfully as her Derringer appeared magically in her hand. "If you – if _any_ of you touch that laptop, I will do my best and my worst to _seriously_ obstruct your God-given ability to father children later in life. I don't care if Carbine rocks up here with the entire Martian FF Movement to take it back – I will _shoot your fucking balls off._ _Clear_?"

"Yes ma'am."

"Gimme that." She snatched the laptop off the table and stomped – literally _stomped­­­_ – away to her bike. She shoved the laptop in Baby's saddlebag and clicked the lock.

"I love it when she's like this."

"Why don't you go n' make sure she's OK, Vincenzo?"

"Maybe I will. A bit of Vinnie-lovin' and she'd be sweet as a nut."

A loud bang from Karma's direction announced that she'd heard Vinnie and that she didn't agree in the slightest. Vinnie's jaw dropped ever so slightly. "Did she just _fire_ a shot in the _yard_?"

"Wanna go check?"

"She's _fucking psychopathic_. I am _not_ going near her."

* * *

The song lyrics that I used were written by yours truly in 2006, when I was a member of a crappy rock band. We thought we were so cool, but we weren't. The song was OK, though. We never got a recording (we didn't have the gear – jeez, we only had one amp between three guitars!), but we did our best with songs, and that one was my favourite. It's called "Shimmy Evie". If anyone wants the full lyrics, give us a buzz! 

Apart from that, hope you enjoyed. Shout-out to curiousfan, my biggest, most curious fan – she's just graduated from college and I _know_ she'll kick arse out in the big bad world.


	9. Myself and Everyone Else

Don't get too excited, it's not a new chapter. But it is a chapter of sorts. Curiousfan, my biggest and most curious fan, has put in a special request to have an internal dialogue with Karma. So one hour later, I post this. All 1,349 words of it. It has a few cliffhangers, but I'm sure you'll like it overall. Hope it does what you wanted, Sarah!

* * *

I'm not a nice girl. Of course. I can deal with that. And I deal with everyone else as well. Badly and bitchily. That's how it goes. If people hate the bitch – and they do – then the bitch gets left alone. Which is perfect, because then the hate is reciprocated, and I don't have to deal with these people.

Only this time I have to, because Carbine High-and-Mighty-Cow has given me a job that I don't want or need. And she gave me three idiots as well. Have a present, Karma! Are you excited? Of course you are! It's like getting a disgusting dress that I _have_ to wear.

Scratch that. I know how deep it really goes.

It's funny how this is all turning out. Both funnies, the ha-ha and the what-the-fuck. Sometimes they happen at the same time. Instance. The Idiots still think there's a chance of finding Miss Harley, waiting for their valiant rescue. Total bullshit. They still think it even when they haven't seen her or Mace for… how long now? Some ridiculous amount of time, I don't know.

Why Harley, anyway? She was a cute mechanic who got abducted by a Rat. Big fucking whoop. What about prisoners of war? Get it in perspective. And yet Carbine is going through all this trouble to _force_ me to find her. She gives me a dragon's den and then lumps me with the Idiots Three. I know why she did it, too, though I haven't told them. The fuck I would. She sent them with me because they'd keep an eye on me. They'd have a massive tantrum if I deliberately "failed". They're noble. They're like knights in fucking armour. They'll make _sure_ I find Harley, and if I don't, then they'll dob me in and I'll get stabbed on my first night in prison.

Heh. I can see the humour in it. I don't know why she wants this, but regardless, I know how much more sinister she can be to get it. She could have just told me that if I didn't do what she wanted, I'd have an accident involving drug lords and mistaken identity. And she wouldn't have batted an eyelid. Prison sounds so pedestrian by comparison. But prison is perfect to scare me.

And she did scare me.

Prison is perfect because inmates can't smuggle guns in. Tumult already tried that bullet-in-the-brain approach and I still didn't die. But prison? Death by pen-knife. Unexplained. Rivalries and murders behind walls that enclose you in a totally different world. Nobody would know. That's the death that I'm _really_ afraid of.

She's a very smart bitch.

No wonder she's a general.

I think Harley's dead. I think this is a chicken-tooth chase, to be honest. I mean, _seriously_. What are the chances? She's been gone for so long. We won't find her. We _can't_ find her. And yet Idiots Three think they can. And that I'm going to help them do it.

Fuck off.

I'm still sort of pissed. Sometimes I feel like I'm babysitting them.

Which is weird. Because I'm not. It's like I'm a mother trying to teach a child how to read the alphabet and they're already onto chapter books. They don't know everything, but they know more than I thought.

Even if half of it is just dumb fucking luck.

My mother always used to tell me to stop swearing. Heh. I remember that now. It encouraged me to swear even more. It fulfilled its purpose when she told me to stop.

I'm kind of glad, really. I'm glad I'm not doing this alone. I don't want them here, but at the same time I like the company. If we were all out on a road-trip or something – y'know. I do enjoy them. I like their enthusiasm. They're a lot of fun.

And Throttle's a hottie. He was that guy in high school who was adored, not popular. He would have been sincere all his life. He really gives a damn, he really wants to help.

Jesus, the mine out on the field was scary.

I would have been upset if he died.

And it's kind of cool with the whole cyber-specs thing.

But whatever.

When I started tracking, I was still living out. It was Baby and me. I walked into that town like I owned it, smoked outside the pub like a hooker and casually asked the locals if there was any work. There was always work, but it didn't guarantee any pay. Sometimes I'd still do it for the Hell of it. It wasn't like I was going to be around for very long anyway.

Storeman's kid got lost last night. Everyone's out lookin' for him. Yeah? Lost kid. Cute. Sure, I'll lend a hand. Got nothin' better to do.

That was how I met Skelter. They'd already called for help from the cops and Skelter was their local tracker. I was only a helping hand who volunteered, but I found the kid before he did. Why is everyone looking by the road? Fifteen year old boys who hate their family and their town and their life aren't going to walk all cheerful beside the road. He's gonna hide. He's gonna hide in them hills up there. Don't believe me? Pfft. Give me twenty minutes. The kid had lit a fire and everything. He might as well have left me a breadcrumb trail.

When I track, I think like the person I'm tracking. Apparently it's a good skill. Skelter took me out to dinner "to celebrate" and then offered me a job. He'd be my mentor, my advocate and my reference. Cool. Money. I'm in. You'll fuck up and I'll leave, but at least I'll have some jingle.

Six months later, I'm a registered private investigator. Boom. Stardom.

I did it for the money at first, until Tumult Furore shot my brains out my ear. Then I started doing it for the people. I fix other people's families because I can't fix my own.

I can't track Mace. I can't do this. I hope he hides. I hope he's gotten smart and he hides so well that even _I_ can't find him.

When you want to find someone, you think in the same way that they do.

It's cruel.

I know him inside out and upside down, I know the individual clicks and cracks of his mind. He'll know by now that I'm onto him, and if he doesn't, he'll know soon.

We used to do everything together. We hunted together. God, we used to _breathe_ together. And now we're avoiding each other. One's hunting the other. And I'm being told by forces divine to take the his breath away.

I don't really think Harley's dead. He couldn't do it.

I _want_ her to be dead, though. If Harley's dead, we can pack up and go home, and Mace will have vanished and we'll never find him. Harley's our lead. Harley's their light.

If Harley's not dead and I find her, I might kill her myself for causing this shitfight.

I can't distract these guys forever. They'll figure out that I'm stuffing around. They'll ask questions. Throttle will do the asking.

What am I going to do when that happens?

Why does she want this so much? What is she trying to do?

Maybe she's found something out. Maybe it –

Oh my God.

Shit.

* * *

You like? I like. Review if thee wishes.


	10. Glitter, Tears and Stunned Mullets

AAAAAAARGH! KOWTOW! Sorry about me dropping off the face of the planet, my darling ones, but I've been busy at uni. You should like this one, though, its 14, 154 words of pure organic win. Yes, that's right. Chapter Ten is FULL OF WIN. In fact, it's so winny that you will be _compelled_ to review it. Or send me hate-mail regarding my "where-the-Hell-did-you-_go_-you-loser"-esqe few months. Whichever. It's cool.

Karma: Chapter Ten

Glitter, Scars and Stunned Mullets

Karma wasn't even remotely happy about Carbine's smack-on-the-wrist telling-off. She spent twenty minutes in the yard pacing around Baby and chain-smoking – probably, Throttle mused, to try and chill out.

By nature, Throttle had always been a silent observer. It was one of the reasons why he'd been made a demi-leader for the FF Movement during the war. He had a knack for picking and choosing certain qualities and details that other people didn't, as well as being able to surmise the reason behind those qualities and details. Karma had provided more than a little food for thought. Karma was more like psychological indigestion.

One of the things that he'd noticed over and over again was the fact that she would completely lose it and go ballistic over what he perceived to be the littlest things and would hardly bother to tell any of them why. To someone who was quick to judge, Karma could be labelled as neurotic to the point of clinical paranoia.

Throttle preferred to mull over her mood swings and her love-you-loathe-you attitude to everyone. It was fairly obvious to him that she was extremely stressed, perhaps even upset over something that was related to this job. Part of it was to do with the fact that he and his bros were joining her – and he knew that it wouldn't just be down to some kind of lone wolf syndrome. Nobody, particularly smart and well-weathered women like Karma, throws a tantrum just because they have a little company. At first he thought it might be because she'd lost a professional partner, but she'd already told them that she'd always worked alone when she tracked. In particular, she really turned up the volume on Total Bitch FM whenever they asked her anything about herself or about her next move to find Harley. Throttle suspected she was hiding something.

"_Ma!_ Throttle's thinkin' again! Make him stop!"

"Shut up, Vinnie."

Vinnie leaned back in his chair. "You use your brain too much, man."

"This comin' from someone who proved ta'ame n' ta'ame agin that he don't have one." Modo eyed Vinnie with a mixture of amusement and resignation.

Vinnie snorted. "Hey, I maintain that there is plenty of method in my manly madness. There's more activity in here than you think."

"What _do_ you think about?" Throttle was actually intrigued. A trail of suggestions listed through his head. _Speed, women, speed, being cool, danger, women, winning, speed, women_…

"I think about her arse." Vinnie jerked a thumb in Karma's direction. Nonetheless, his voice lowered slightly so she couldn't hear. "Because that is a _fine_ piece of prime asset." He giggled at his own pun. "Geddit? Ass-et? Oh, I'm good." His eyes suddenly lit up as he remembered something he'd been meaning to ask. "Hey Throttle."

"No." He knew what Vinnie was going to ask.

"'No' as in 'I don't appreciate you enough' or 'no' as in…?"

"'No' as in Karma and I slept in separate sleeping bags, crossed a mine-field together and had an intimate survival moment after I stepped on a dud mine."

"You wha-_wha_-what?"

"I stepped on a mine that we thought was live and she tried to defuse it, but we figured out it was a dud. It was fucking scary, though – we didn't know it was a dud until it failed to blow us up when I slipped off."

"Jeez." Modo was sitting up straight. "She wanted to defuse it, y'said?"

"Yep."

"Is it possible t' feel déjà vu through 'nother person?" Modo suddenly realised what he'd just said and smoothly changed his tact. "She must la'ake ya if she wanted to go that far."

Vinnie squealed over both of them with indignation, his fur on end. "Are you telling me that you went through Hell and high water with that _magnificent_ demon – and there was _no action_?"

"That's exactly what I'm telling you."

"Dude, I would've _jumped_ her after the mine. Wasn't that how you and Carbine –?"

Modo's resounding thump that nearly knocked Vinnie out of his chair came just a little too late. Throttle went even quieter than normal. "Let's not talk about that, Vinnie."

"But _why_, Throttle? She's awful, but she's a masterpiece, I'll give her that."

"Get over it, Vinnie."

But Vinnie was just not going to let this go. Modo was getting ready to hit him again but he jumped to the other side of the table. "Don't you wanna get over Carbine, Throttle?"

Throttle bristled immediately and got up. "Fuck off, Vincent." He marched off to his bike in the yard.

Karma was still there, smoking like a chimney. He walked straight past her and leaned on Lady, ignoring her.

"What do you want?" she snapped.

_For fuck's sake_. "Talk to me like that again and I'll get shittier than you can even pretend to be," he snarled. "Grow up and get some manners, woman. I'm not putting up with your shit." He crossed his arms and leaned against Lady, his back to her as he watched the ageless sky.

A pondering silence echoed right behind him. He could almost hear Karma breathing. "Wow. Didn't know you had a temper buried somewhere underneath there."

"I bring it out on special occasions, and I'm not in a talking mood."

"Ooh, lovin' the caustic sarcasm." She put out her cigarette, sashayed right up next to him and gazed at his jawline.

He could see her face just out of the corner of his eye. One of her earrings was beaming brightly in the sun. "Wanna know my beef?"

"No." _Yes_.

"I hate being checked up on, especially by someone who thinks she can do my job and can't. What's your beef?"

"I hate being reminded of old girlfriends."

The earring bobbed in and out of view as her head jerked forward and then back.

"What? Me?"

"What do you mean, 'you'?"

"Why would I remind you of an old girlfriend?"

"I never said that you did. It's none of your business anyway, Karma."

"I do, don't I?"

"Go away." He let a smile slip through.

"Why do I –?" She stopped. "You're twisted."

"I'm what?"

"You're bullshitting coz you guys are shitty at me because I'm shitty at you, so you're playing mind-games now."

"Woman." He turned around, grabbed her shoulders and pulled her nose-to-nose. "You're ridiculously paranoid."

"You clearly have really bad taste in women if one of your exes reminds you of me."

"Don't flatter yourself. I prefer my women to have at least three definitive mental illnesses before I have a crack, and all you've got is one miserable little personality disorder."

Throttle didn't know how long they would have eyeballed each other if Karma hadn't found that last bit overwhelmingly funny and had started laughing so hard that her whole body shook. For some reason it thawed the ice – before he knew it he was laughing too as they leaned on Lady, still giggling in stops and starts a few minutes after the initial burst of hilarity had died down.

Karma flipped her hair over one shoulder and rolled an unlit cigarette between her fingers. "Heh. Personality disorder." She grinned widely. "Personality disor –" She started laughing again. "God, why is that even funny?"

"It's because it's true."

"Oh, don't be bitter. There are plenty of reasons why I don't tell you what's going on."

So she'd picked up on that. Why hadn't she said anything?

She glanced at him, reading his face. "I'd say it's because it's none of your business, but you'd have a tantrum. So I'll say it's because I'm really just feeling around in the dark at this stage. I've got so little to work with that this whole case is just touch and go. Besides, didn't I make it clear in Utopia 12 that you three guys are just the muscle?"

"Hey, I'm not just a pretty face."

"I'm not denying that. Nor am I condoning it." She ran her fingers through her hair. "Honestly? I don't know what to do with you guys. I'm not a team player and I really don't know what to do when I'm suddenly lumped with a team."

"That's kind of cute, really."

"The only reason I'm telling you is because you won't go back to your bros and say 'hurr-hurr, Karma don' know watta _doooo_!'" She put on a deep, dopey voice. "And really, all the stuff that needs doing right now is stuff that I can do by myself."

"Well, like it or lump it, you've got us, pretty lady."

"I accepted that a while ago, but I'm still not sure how it fits." She snorted. "Look, we've been through this already, OK? Just shut up and let me do my job."

"Karma." She turned her head in surprise. His voice was so low it was hypnotic. "I've been more or less happy to follow you around until now. We all have, despite some complaints. We've made it obvious that we're doing this with you. So we – namely _I_ – are not going to shut up and let you do your job, because it's our job too. That's why we're here."

"Hoo-rah. I'm inspired."

"Get over yourself, Karma. You can be a major brat."

She "humphed" loudly, but didn't say anything. He kept talking. "Look, unless you and I can get to some kind of compromise, then we're going to keep on butting heads and that's not helpful to anyone."

"Coz you're boss of those boys, yeah?"

"Pretty much."

She rubbed the side of her neck. "This is _my_ job," she said with some despair. "This is what I've built myself up on. This job is my everything."

"And to some of us, actually finding the person instead of getting the job finished is _our_ everything."

She raised her eyes to the horizon and narrowed them against the sun. She clearly didn't agree with his sentiments, but she saw that they were sensible. "Let's work this out later, OK? I just remembered we have a laptop to deliver."

"I'll hold you to that."

"Do it." She turned around and winced as she cracked her shoulder. He remembered her shot. "How's your battle-scar?"

"Sore."

"You should get Modo to look at it again. I didn't see you even touch it on the minefield."

She made a non-committal "mmm" and strode back to the pub. "Maybe later. I'm gonna ask if there's a transporter around here."

"Why?"

"We can get to Hew's place quicker. He lives on the other side of the planet, and this laptop's the only lead we got." She strode up the steps and vanished through the pub door.

Throttle followed her and sat back down with Modo and Vinnie. Modo raised his eyebrows. "Seems you n' Miss Karma work well when you treat each other as 'motional punchin' bags."

"Don't get too jealous, big guy."

Vinnie was giggling like a little girl. "I swear, if there weren't sparks out on the minefield, there's gonna be soon."

Throttle belted Vinnie on the side of the head and he faceplanted on the tabletop, laughing like a maniac. "It's _true_! You know it's true!"

"Shut up, Vincent." Throttle still smiled. "Stay out of my love-life."

Vinnie was still calming down when Karma slunk out of the pub again. "Hey guys."

"Yeah?"

"Could you do me a favour?"

It was one of those moments that Throttle knew he was going to look back on in later years and say _oh my God_. "What is it?"

"The public transporter's fucked for another week, but there's this one guy who reckons he can lend us his. Only problem is he wants a certain… payment."

Throttle wasn't quite sure if he knew what she meant. Karma was gimlet-eyed. "He wants me," she said flatly.

"T' do what?"

Karma looked at Modo for a few seconds, totally blank, and then flashed him one of her angel-smiles. "Do you want me to tell you what he said?"

Modo looked uncertain. The smile grew brighter. "C'mere, baby." She leaned over and whispered something long and obscene into his trembling ear. By the time she was done, Modo's eye was nearly as crimson as his cheeks.

"Uh-huh." Karma leaned back and put her hands on her hips. "I need a husband and his posse. Any bidders?"

"Do we need to say anything in particular?"

"Just the usual boof-man '_you no touch mine woman_' to make it believable and a convincing argument as to why we must, absolutely _must_ use this transporter."

"May ah have the honour of blowin' some holes in somethin'?"

"If you deem it at all necessary, Modo, you most certainly may have that honour. And Vinnie, if you at any time want to beat the crap out anyone who so much looks at my arse, feel free. Just as long as you let Throttle do most of the talking."

"Can _I_ look at your arse?"

"Only if you wanna beat the crap out of yourself. Or I could do it for you, if it's too hard." Her tone was lofty.

"Who gets to be husband?"

"Seeing as Throttle's doing the talking, Throttle gets to be the husband."

Vinnie sniggered loudly and only stopped when Karma smiled at him with one of those beatifically deadly smiles. "You clearly have too much spare time in your hands, Vincent." He opened his mouth to shoot back and she swatted a hand towards him. "_Don't_ tell me what other spare things you have in your hands."

"You're so _witty_, Karma."

"Shut up and follow me." She flounced back inside the pub.

Throttle noticed as he followed her that there was a strange smell inside that didn't reach the veranda. He inhaled it deeply and felt slightly light-headed. It was dark and windowless and cramped, and about twenty bloodshot eyes rose to watch them pass before dropping down again.

"Karma."

"Yes, husband?"

"This is an _anja_ den."

"Why yes, husband. Yes it is."

[Author's Note: In the Mad-Eyed Owl universe, _anja_ is a plant that is endemic to Mars and is known throughout the universe for its rarity and its regenerative properties. _Anja_ stems can regrow entire phalanges of foliage due to a stimulant in its sap that allows it to rejuvenate indefinitely, and this sap can have the same affect on some forms of organic tissue, allowing for the healthy redevelopment of organs such as lungs, muscle and even skin in some species. However, the leaves of _anja_ plants are highly narcotic (much like hydroponic marijuana on Earth) and are a popular drug substance on Mars. Due to its endangered status and the possibility of permanent brain damage if smoked in excess, smoking _anja_ is illegal. Recreational ­_anja_ users are called den-heads, due to the fact that _anja_ is smoked communally in "dens".]

Karma ran her fingers through her hair a few times and ruffled it expertly – it went from messy-dirty to messy-sexy in an instant. "I'll talk to this guy first and give you a cue. His name's Buzz." She pulled the hem of her singlet over her hips and an ample amount of cleavage suddenly blossomed out of the top. "Do not under any circumstance use each other's names, clear? They're stoned out of their brains but not everyone forgets everything."

"Where is this guy?"

"There." Karma pointed to a skinny, hawkish-looking Mouse sitting alone at a table in the middle of the room. "He's a dealer. I don't know if he has a posse. Watch your backs. Boys?" She turned to Modo and Vinnie. "Could you fan, please?"

They spread out across the den, within easy reach of Buzz's table. Karma turned to Throttle. "Am I sexy enough?"

"Just enough."

She smiled slyly. "Excellent. Try not to get too distracted." She gave a mesmerising swing of her hips and then sidled up to Buzz. Throttle was two steps behind.

"Hey, Buzz." Karma positively purred as she slunk into a seat next to him. Throttle chose the other side.

Buzz's eyes settled instantly on her breasts. "Hey, little sugarboots. Change your mind?"

Karma's scar twitched in a grin. "Mr. Buzz, I'd like you to meet my husband. Baby, this is Mr. Buzz."

Buzz's narrow eyes switched from Karma's cleavage to Throttle's barrel chest. "Hey, Baby." _Pretty dumb for a smart-arse_. "Your wife tells me you need a transporter."

"She told me that as well." Throttle made his voice growl. "She tells me everything, in fact. Wanna know what my wife told me about you?"

"Shoot, Baby." Buzz grinned with black teeth and put his hands behind his head. Throttle leaned in, as though intimately, and was suddenly all menace.

"My wife tells me you took her for something she ain't."

"I din' take yer wife for nothin'."

"You wanted something from her. Something that you're not allowed to get."

Buzz's eyes darted around the room. Karma rose and waved her hand calmly, like she was brushing away a fly. "Honey, I need a little air. Let's talk outside, shall we?"

Buzz's eyes grew huge. "I'm not goin' nowhere."

"'Fraid ya gonna have to, Mr. Buzz." Modo loomed out of thin air and clapped a meaty hand on Buzz's bony shoulder. Vinnie appeared on his other side. "No trouble, just a bit of talkin'."

Karma was smiling again. "Come on, Mr. Buzz. Only a little sunshine."

Buzz clearly thought that he was about to die. He whimpered loudly as Modo and Vinnie lifted him bodily out of his chair and marched him out the door, Throttle and Karma close behind.

Karma felt someone grab her arm. "Where you takin' Buzz?"

She turned to meet eye-to-eye with a young redhead who was obviously stoned out of her brains. "For a walk," she said brightly.

"Buzz don'go fer waw-kuhs." The redhead's eyes were heavy-lidded and bloodshot and she could barely speak properly, but she still seemed slightly lucid. Karma's ears twitched as she realised that every den-head, stoked or no, was paying her a dangerous amount of attention.

Karma turned around smoothly and sang out across the den. "No trouble, folks, Buzz just needs some air."

"Buzz doh'need no air."

Karma's eyes flickered. "He does now." She pranced out of the den and shot around the back where the boys and Buzz were waiting. "Make this quick, the den-heads are getting rowdy," she hissed.

Throttle's fist promptly closed around Buzz's collar and lifted him to his feet. "My wife asked you about a transporter."

Buzz tried to laugh and squeaked hysterically. "She's a beautiful woman, yer wife, beautiful lady, quite a lady. Only a mistake, we all make mistakes, huh?"

"I don't like mistakes." Throttle slammed him against the den wall. "Do you have a transporter?"

Buzz squawked and nodded.

"Did you just make a mistake?" Throttle squeezed. Buzz made a cacking noise and shook his head.

Karma prowled up behind Throttle and leaned her chin on his shoulder, looking Buzz in the eye. "We need to use your transporter for a one-way trip. Nobody's going to know that we used it. Is that a problem?"

Buzz shook his head.

"Excellent." Karma smiled. "Baby, stop being so scary and let poor Buzz go."

Throttle dropped Buzz on the ground, where he sat coughing and hacking. Karma knelt by his ear. "Listen, Buzz. If anyone finds out that we were here, or if anyone finds out that we used your personal transporter, I'm going to come back. OK?" She lowered her voice. "I've got my business and you've got yours. Let's keep those businesses secret. Deal?"

Buzz stared at her and then suddenly nodded in understanding. "Deal. No messes."

"Where's your transporter?"

"Warehouse, always on, always open. Other side of town, big old flyer hangar, just push the door." He got up.

"Thankyou, Buzz." Karma fixed a strand of hair on his forehead. "Off you go."

Buzz scuttled around the side of the den.

"Well, that was nicely handled. We didn't even have to blow anything up."

"You steal all our fun, Karma."

"Are you sulking, Vincent?"

"You said I could beat someone up!"

"I don't think anyone in there would have made it interesting for you." Karma scratched her nose. "We still got a transporter, though. Which is good. We only need to use it once."

"How do you know he's not lying?"

"Well, it's not like we can't find out." Karma strolled around the front of the den towards the bike yard. "Good job at being scary, Throttle, you didn't even have to try that hard."

"I was surprised as well. He just went to pieces."

"That means he doesn't get a lot of trouble. Either that or there's a bunch of mugs with machine-guns waiting at this warehouse." She sounded ever so bright.

"Cheerful girl," Modo muttered.

"You love it." Karma whistled at Baby. "Up you get, honey!"

Baby straightened up and trundled over towards Karma's beckoning hand. "We got ourselves a transporter, I think. Wanna check?"

Baby's computer made the strangest kind of sound, a kind of whoopy-whistle. Vinnie cackled. "R2-D2!"

Karma looked around. "Arr-what?"

"R2-D2. It's – don't worry, Earth euphemism."

"What the fuck is an arrtoo deetoo?"

"Robot that made lots of cute beepy sounds in a famous Earth visual entertainment unit."

"Riiight." Karma dismissed it. "C'mon, Baby, let's find us a warehouse. Go walkies?"

Keen-sounding rumble. "Come on." Karma swaggered out of the pub's yard and onto the edge of the road, where the bustle of Brimstone swarmed behind her. Baby followed her like a puppy. Karma didn't even have to touch her handlebars.

Modo gawped. "Oh wow."

Throttle was equally impressed. "Those two must be real close."

"Lookit, just follers her la'ake she's a Momma. Ah love mah Li'l Darlin' but she'd _never_ just _foller_ me la'ake that, AI or no."

Karma had stopped a little way up the road. "_Hurry up! Ain't got all day!_"

The guys grabbed their bikes and wheeled after her. "Aren't you goin' to ride?"

"Nah." She shrugged. "I feel like walking. Baby does too, huh bubba?"

Baby purred and rolled to Karma's thigh. Karma strode ahead and dove into the buzz of Brimstone's heart.

Throttle wasn't sure if it was market day or if it was like this all the time. Wherever he looked there was something or someone by the side of the road, from tables with shadecloth to just someone sitting on their haunches with their wares laid out in front of them on rags. The traffic was made up of people and colour – it would have been stupid to ride anyway, they would have been going so slow that someone would have stalled. And it was nice to walk, sort of. He hadn't really taken some time out to just slow down and watch. He suspected that this might be Karma's version of down-time.

He pulled his bike up next to Karma. "Hey."

"Hi." She made it sound like she'd just bumped into him in the street. "How you doin'?"

"I was wondering about something."

"Shoot."

"You, um… you and Baby look real close."

"Oh, we are."

"How come you wheeled her through the minefield, then?"

Karma's hand reached out and caressed Baby's rearview mirrors. "Well, Baby's lovely, but she can't see everything. If she'd wheeled a little bit the wrong way she might've gotten blown up, and I would never want that to happen."

"Y'know, I just thought you talked kind of _at_ your bike, not _to_ your bike."

"Hell no. Baby's my baby." Karma smiled warmly, reaching over to grasp Baby's left handlebar in the same motion of holding someone's hand. Her long legs grew even longer and she strode ahead with Baby at her side.

In the surge of Brimstone, the image of the tall blonde woman with dirty golden fur, out for a seeming afternoon stroll with her bike, turned more than a few heads. She seemed somehow utterly at peace, a strange vision of tranquillity in the centre of town. More than a few people stopped to stare as she floated past, hand-in-hand with a dirty black-and-chrome sports racer that looked a little less than new. Relationships like that between rider and bike were nearly the stuff of legends. Karma made it look enviably easy. She clearly loved her bike.

At that moment the sun reached a zenith and hit Karma dead-on with a blast of light. Her golden fur shone pleasantly – of course she was attractive, she was a beautiful woman. But Throttle stared for a different reason as he witnessed something that he knew he was never going to see again.

Maybe it was the angle of the sun or just chance at where he was standing, or maybe it was his specs, he would never know. But from where he stood, the moment that the sun shone down on her, Karma's fur, lush and fine and golden, went almost completely transparent, and he saw an illogical pattern of white stripes and spots that glared on her skin underneath. They were on her arms and shoulders and over the back of her neck, and it was over in an instant. Throttle glanced around if anyone else had seen it – nobody had.

He realised suddenly in that tiny slice of time, he'd just seen only a few of Karma's scars glittering proudly underneath her fur. They were innumerable and crossed over each other in thin lines and thick slashes, countless and crazy. Some of then were so big he knew they would have required surgery. The circular ones looked like bullet-holes.

_What the Hell has happened to you?_

He looked at her again, just ahead of him, still shining in the sun – there was no trace of a single mark on her body at all now, just the worrisome bandage around her shoulder where she'd been shot a few days ago. Her body just hid the suffering automatically or disguised it with grace.

_Good God, Karma_ –

"What?"

He realised he'd just said it aloud. She was looking over her shoulder, half-smiling. "What'd I do?"

"Nothin'. Just thinking."

"You were looking at my arse, weren't you?"

Vinnie cackled loudly, but Karma didn't mind. "Were you?"

Throttle nodded slowly. She grinned. "Least you're honest. But you've had your turn, someone else can have a go now."

"_Me, me, me_!"

"You've been jumping the queue to stare at my derriere since the beginning of this trip, Vincent." She gave him a shove, but didn't put any heart into it. Her fingers slowly unwound from Baby's handlebar. "Left, Baby." She turned out of the crowd and down a narrow street. The guys followed.

They found her standing, hands on hips, looking up at what looked like a very old and very creaky flyer hangar. Its enormous roller doors had been welded together and pulled to the ground a long time ago – it resembled a giant sealed box. "I'm guessing this is the biggest place in town."

"Is this it?"

"I dunno. Try the door." She pointed to a small door right in the corner. "He said it would be open."

Modo gave the door a shove, a good deal harder than he should have done – it fell off its hinges and clanged onto the floor. "Whoops."

"Smooth, Modo." Karma stuck her head inside. "It's black as Hell in here." She vanished through the door. "Oh yes, this is the place – it stinks like _anja_ weed." Her voice echoed oddly. "Hang on, I think I got –"

Lights blazed from the roof. "Lights on! Come in, guys."

The warehouse was strangely warm and even more strangely humid, with the heavy scent of _anja_ in the air. Long-stemmed _anja_ plants hung in pots from the ceiling, drooping their willowy arms almost down to the floor. More _anja_ plants were curled up on makeshift boards that were elevated high up, nearly at shoulder level. Leaves and vines hung in his way, and as he pushed them aside he couldn't help feeling he'd just walked into a strange sort of rainforest.

Karma giggled. "Ooh, pretty!" She ran a stem around her fingers. "This is _amazing_, look at this!"

"Ah know it's _anja_, ma'am… but ah couldn't agree more, this is beautiful."

Throttle couldn't remember ever seeing so many living, breathing plants in one place on Mars. The whole thing was completely illegal in the way that it was being used, but by itself…

"Hey look. He wasn't lying." Karma pointed out something dark in the corner. "Transporter."

The transporter looked nothing like the kinds that any of them were used to – instead of looking like a sleek white doorway, it was an open boxy-looking prism about two metres high by five metres long. It was made of a strange-looking glassy material that didn't reflect any light, with a metal-grille floor and red movement-senor lasers around the rim. Next to it was a communications board and a coordinates pad, which looked somehow mismatched. Wires and power cords writhed across the floor.

"You are _kidding_." Vinnie was appalled. "We're going in _this_ shit-heap?"

"You don't have to if you don't want to, Vincent. I'd be more than happy to leave you here – you can make friends with the den-heads, you'd fit right in." Karma approached the communications board and stared at it with complete miscomprehension. "Why can't these smartarse inventors just give these things an 'On' button?"

"Need a hand, pretty lady?"

"Hang on." Her hand hovered over the keyboard. "I think –"

She pressed a random button. Total silence settled over warehouse. "No? Maybe this one." The motion sensors fizzed and blinked out.

"Karma, I think you just reset the whole thing." Vinnie appeared over her shoulder, looking disapprovingly at the offending finger that pushed the button.

"Nah, haven't." She was starting to look a bit excited. "I just need to press the right one."

"What are you trying to _do_?"

"I dunno. Make it work." She pushed another one, most likely just to piss him off.

"It _was_ working!"

"Like you would know, Vincent."

"You two are like _chilluns_." Modo rumbled loudly over the top of them. "Gimme that." He shouldered between them, forcing them apart, and reached down the side of the comm board. His metal finger found a bright red button and pressed it firmly.

The entire transporter hummed loudly and the backlights clacked on, lighting it up like a flare. Modo raised one eyebrow and hid a smile.

Karma snorted, folded her arms and leaned her backside against the board, just out of Modo's way. Throttle almost laughed – it turned out that Karma turned into a poser when she was upstaged. Vinnie slunk back to Sweetheart and buffed her engine panel with the fur on his wrist.

"I wonder where he gets the money to do all this?" Throttle had gone back to examining the miniature rainforest around him.

"Dunno. He must earn a bundle, just getting the soil to make them grow would cost a lot. He'd need water too, they don't need much but they still need some. And he –" Karma's eyes expanded hugely and her hand flew to her mouth. "Oh God. I just realised who he was."

"Who?"

"Buzz! He's Moolah Buzzard! He's the biggest _anja_ dealer since… since _ever_!" Karma's eyes were lit in a strange sort of way. "And he's living _here_? No freakin' wonder he got so scared, nobody would have a _clue_ where he is! He must just deliver all of his _anja_ though this transporter."

"That can't be right. They'd receive coordinates if he delivered it in the transporter." Vinnie had his head tilted uncharacteristically on one side.

"I dunno, I don't think so. He must block it somehow. He mustn't get many visitors – that was probably why he got so scared. He didn't even have a posse with him. He feels safe here."

"Ah know why." Modo spoke up. "This thing can send n' receive, but this ain't a Martian transporter. This is a Plutarkian one. They used these things to transport prisoners 'tween prison camps – if you had prisoners standing you could pack 'em in at thirty, forty a time. They usually din't care too much where the prisoners came from, so they din't bother installin' receipt programming."

"Sounds typically stinkfishy, not caring where you get it as long as you get it." Karma softened slightly. "How'd you know that?"

"You learn a few things in the war."

"I figured." She didn't dare touch it any further. "Either way, this'd be the perfect appliance for any criminal Hell's kitchen."

"You should report him, by the way," Vinnie mentioned.

"Buzz? I can't."

"Why?"

"Because I told him that business is secret." She looked vague for a second. "Oh. That means that I won't tell anyone about his business and he won't tell anyone about mine."

"You don't _have_ any business."

"Vinnie, threatening someone to use their private transporter looks pretty dodgy from any angle."

The transporter beeped twice and Modo stopped typing. "Ready, Miss Karma. Just punch in your coordinates."

Karma started mashing buttons on the coordinates keypad. "Reporting him would be a waste of time," she continued.

"But… Ma'am." Modo wavered. "He sells drugs."

"Indeed."

"That's illegal."

"Yep." She paused. "And before you go any further, Modo, I'm a tracker. I'm not a cop."

"He should still get arrested."

"His little business probably supports that entire community. There's big money in _anja_."

"There's bigger problems that go with it. That's why it's illegal." Throttle still couldn't quite believe how nonchalant she was being.

"It's also illegal to own a wide-scale concealment holographic projector without a permit, and I really doubt those people have one." Karma didn't even look up. "But without that projector, these people wouldn't have survived the war."

"Fair enough, but holographic projectors don't leave you with long-term psychological side-effects. The Plutarkians are long gone."

"Sandraiders aren't." Karma's eyes were hard. "It would be way too easy to pillage this place. That projector saves their lives every other day because nobody knows that they're still here." She turned around. "Brimstone's got a highway to the front of it – nobody uses it now, but they will one day. It has a few little businesses which aren't as squeaky as some people might like, but they've helped this place to survive. If Buzz makes a couple of dollars selling _anja_, awesome! He'd be the top dog in town by now."

"But that's _stupid_, Karma, that's no good at all!"

"Vinnie. There's big money in _anja_ leaves. There's even bigger money in _anja_ sap." She turned around again. "Buzz isn't the smartest, but he's not dumb either. He sells it now as a drug, but if he starts selling it as a medical product he could make an economy on his own."

"He –" Throttle stopped. It made so much sense that he had a feeling she'd been in this kind of situation before.

She shrugged. "It's his choice as to what he wants to do with it. Throwing him in prison for twenty-odd years will bring Brimstone below the poverty line. Let him make his money first and then he'll start looking higher."

It surprised him even further at just how well she understood people. It sounded idealistic, it even sounded stupid, but it still sounded believable.

"Ah la'ake the way you put that, Miss Karma." Modo was looking at her with a new kind of respect.

"Sometimes the best things start ugly."

"Like me. I was the weirdest-lookin' kid in class, and _behold_!"

Karma patted him on the shoulder fondly. "You'll always be Snow-Balls to me." She motioned to the transporter, which had just started to glow faintly. "Load 'em up, boys, we're good to go."

"Where are we goin'?"

"Yellerbax. Hew lives a couple of klicks out of town."

"_Sweet_!"

"Get over it, Vinnie, we won't have time to do any circuit racing."

[Author's note: In the Mad-Eyed Owl universe, Yellerbax is the host city of Mars' biggest annual festival/bike race, the Hurley-Burley. It also has racing tracks around and through the city, which are open at all times and under all circumstances. During the Plutarkian War, Yellerbax was the pinnacle of defiance as it kept its racing circuits open to the public, although the Hurley-Burley was cancelled for a number of years.]

"I reckon a circuit race would be the best way to make you lighten up." Vinnie was only half-joking.

Karma smiled prettily. "I grew up in Yellerbax, Vincent. Before I was a tracker, I wanted to be a racer – and I'd kick your snowy backside on those circuits any day of the week."

"Wanna bet?"

"Get in the transporter or I'll leave you behind." Karma hit the timer and hauled Baby into the transporter. "Shit, I forgot to get her serviced."

Baby bipped her a few times. "I know, Baby-boo, I know, I'm sorry. We'll get Hew to look at you, that'll make you pretty, yeah?"

Vinnie was behind her in an instant, caterwauling. "'Baby-boo, make you _sooo_ pretty, so sorry I didn't get'chew a _makeover_ –'"

Karma spun fluidly on her toes and whacked him loudly across the back of his head. She hit him so hard that he pitched forward and sailed headfirst over the saddle of his bike, faceplanting for the second time that day.

"Don't talk shit about my bike, van Wham." She was quietly angry. Her eyes challenged Modo and Throttle to say something as they dragged their bikes into the transporter, but they knew she was right – it was the apex of bad manners to make fun of someone else's bike like that, especially if bike and rider had the kind of relationship that Karma and Baby clearly shared.

Karma reached over and pulled Vinnie to his feet. "Don't say anything. Everyone in?" It was a short and rhetorical question, but Modo still answered.

"Yes, ma'am."

"Cool." She glanced at the timer. "Ten seconds. Take one last look, boys – you're never going to see crime this beautiful ever again."

Throttle wanted to agree, but before he could, the transporter lights flashed down and the whole warehouse vanished into nothing.

* * *

The transporter techie in Yellerbax freaked out when they suddenly flashed into the holding bay with absolutely no warning at all – he was a young kid with bleached white stripes in his hair and he was still learning the ins and outs. Technically, he was meant to register all comings and goings through the public transporter, but this was his second week on the job and he'd already stuffed up a few times by forgetting to record coordinators from incoming transmissions. Due to the fact that there had been no warning of any arrivals and that Buzz's transporter didn't send receipt coordinates, this kid had no way of figuring out where they'd just come from. He was still tapping frantically at his computer when Karma and the boys slipped out quietly.

"Hope that doesn't come back to bite me," Karma murmured. "But it's too much of a hassle explaining everything, and I made promises to keep business secret."

There had only ever been one other time when Throttle had gone to Yellerbax. It was a long time ago now, when he was still in cadets and Stoker was still his instructor. It was the same year that the Hurley-Burley was resurrected before being cancelled for another five seasons – he remembered twisting, narrow roads and tall, long-limbed people with red or blonde colouring, light-coloured eyes and loud, pushy voices. Karma fitted right in with them.

The roads had been resurfaced, but they still wound like a snake's spine. There were no speed limits and Vinnie went spastic, roaring up and down like a dog chasing its tail. Karma let it go – she seemed to be slowly building up an immunity to all things van Wham, even when he cut out dangerously close in front of her and made Baby swerve.

The transporter bay was in a place that Karma termed "mid-left of centre of town", close to the main road that led out of the city and into the optimistically-termed "suburbs". "Fuckin' slums, more like. I grew up in them way back when. Dirty, hot and crowded, but we always had the best seats when the races were on. The tracks go right around that area." As they left the heart of the city, Throttle noticed the tracks ringed with new blue paint. It didn't seem to matter where they went – people built their homes around them with no complaints, causing a new kind of urban sprawl as houses dotted all over the place, not in conventional rows. Throttle was surprised when Karma pulled over in front of one particular house , baffled that she could even find her way. The house was stilted with the typical veranda, and its tiny front yard was filled with satellites small and large. Another satellite sat on the roof of the house, dwarfing it as it faced the sky.

"Avoid the equipment, Hew gets cranky if you bump anything." As they parked their bikes, Throttle noticed something about Karma had changed – she was smiling widely as she took Harley's laptop out of Baby's saddlebag, hop-skipped up the stairs and banged on the door.

A matronly woman with albino features opened the door and blinked in the light. "Yes?"

"Three guesses, Ducati."

"_Karma!_" Ducati threw her arms wide open and attempted to squeeze Karma in half. Karma literally could not breathe. When Ducati let her go, she heaved for breath. "Yeah, I'm fine."

"Get in, you'll get burnt. You got friends with you?"

"Yeah. Ducati, this is my entourage – Throttle, Modo, Vinnie."

Ducati squinted and Throttle realised that she wasn't just albinistic in appearance – she really _was_ albino, and clearly photosensitive. "Nice to meet you all." There was a crash out the back, and a bloodcurdling scream. Ducati sighed. "That'll be Argin. _Jin-Jin! What did you break?_"

Her voice was overpowering. Throttle would have hated to get into a domestic with her. A child's voice answered.

"_I din do it! Deauville did it!_"

"Come through." Ducati opened the door wider and motioned inside. "_What's broken?_"

"_Nuffin, I din do it!_"

Ducati slammed the door shut and bustled into the kitchen. It was very dim inside – all the curtains were drawn. There was a boy sitting on the floor in front of the TV, but he wasn't paying any attention to it. His face lit up. "Karma!"

"Good Lord, Notch, you've grown ten feet."

"_Deauville, Brumby! Karma's home!_" Notch got so excited he started jumping. When Karma knelt down to give him a hug, a pair of ghosts shot out from the kitchen and bulled into her, nearly knocking her over. Karma made an "oof" sound and then laughed. "You boys are almost as heavy as me! C'mon, be nice – Karma's breakable –"

Ducati came out of the kitchen with an infant girl on her hip. "_Oi! Be gentle, we don't run people over in this house!_ Ten-hup, boys, we need to introduce you."

The boys scrambled up and stood to attention in line, skinny chests puffed out. Karma sat back and laughed again. "You been trainin' them up, Ducati?"

"Only way I can keep order in this madhouse."

Karma got up and dusted herself off. "OK, guys. In order of appearance and conveniently of age – Notch, Deauville, Brumby and Argin."

"_Jin-Jin!_"

"Known as Jin-Jin."

Notch was eight, Deauville was seven, Brumby was five and Jin-Jin was two. Jin-Jin was the only non-albino out of all of them, with yellow fur and pinkish eyes. The boys were all pristinely pale, inheriting their mother's albinism.

Ducati bawled for Hew as she juggled Jin-Jin on her hip and then started talking at a million miles an hour. "Sit down, there's lots of room – we were so excited when we got your call, we've been looking forward to seeing you again. What did you do to your hair, your hair was so nice before – have you gained weight?" Ducati's hand shot out and felt Karma's belly as though she was pregnant. "This is good, you were too skinny before, you've got some good shape to you now – _Hew, get in here!_ You all need a shower, you've all got dirt all through you –" A timer went off in the kitchen and she rolled her eyes expressively. "Jinni, you remember Karma, just sit on Karma's lap for a second, Mam's gotta check her cooking." She dumped Jin-Jin unceremoniously into Karma's arms and shuffled away.

Jin-Jin squinted as Karma smiled. "Remember me, bubble-boo?"

"You have dif'rent hair." Jin-Jin reached up to pull on a black lock of Karma's mane.

"You _do_ remember me?" Karma was truly surprised. "I haven't seen you since you were a baby."

"She _is_ a baby." Brumby walked up and leaned his elbows on Karma's knee. Jin-Jin's face screwed up angrily. "Not!"

"You are too."

"_You_ a baby!"

"Brumby, be careful. One day you're going to need her advice about girls and you're not going to get it if you tease her."

"Girls are _yuck_." Brumby stuck his tongue out and slumped onto the floor. His brothers joined him and stared shamelessly with their eerie pink eyes.

"Who are they?" Deauville regarded the bros with a mixture of curiosity and strange contempt. "Do you need bodyguards now?"

Karma jiggled Jin-Jin merrily on her knee. "Nah, I just said they could tag along."

"You working?"

"Yeah."

The kids looked at each other conspirationally and smiled. Ducati screamed again from the kitchen. "_Hew, I'm DIVORCING you if you don't come out of that godforsaken cave RIGHT NOW_!"

There was the sound of a door slamming. "I'm _coming_, woman…" A shadow passed by the doorway and followed her into the kitchen. There were some soft giggles and Ducati's voice that said something creepily similar to "Of course you're coming, that's the reason I have four children." And then the mysterious Hew filled the doorway and smiled broadly.

Hew was about forty, going grey around his face and noticeably overweight. His fur would have once been a brilliant red but had gone darker over time. He had a large chunk taken out of one ear and a single earring in the other, and was missing a front tooth. "Well well. Miss Karma Supersede hath returned."

"Aye, she hath. And she comes bearing gifts." Karma held up the laptop in one hand and balanced Jin-Jin with the other.

"Oh, lovely. I like presents." Hew approached to take the laptop out of her hands before noticing the guys seemingly for the first time. "This your cheer squad?"

The brothers on the floor burst out laughing. Karma gave a small smile. "If they are, they're not doing their job."

"Oh, nicely put. So this is the thing I'm meant to tag?" He tapped the laptop with a knuckle.

"That'd be good."

"It's always good. Come on, boys and princess, we've got a job to do." Hew walked back out of the living room as his sons tumbled after him – Jin-Jin hopped off Karma's knee and toddled prettily behind.

"Wanna watch?"

"What're we watching?"

"I dunno, but it's always cool." Karma rose off the couch. "Come on."

They followed her through a dark corridor to what seemed to be the back of the house, entering a room that chittered like an animal and blinked with multicoloured lights. The walls were covered with shelves and shelves of computer engines, wires, switchboards – the whole room was like being inside one huge computer. In the centre were a desk and a chair, where Hew now sat.

"One day this place is going to take over the whole universe and override all system files with Ducati saying 'Hew, you need to clean up that mess in the back of the house.'" Hew smiled as he noticed how the guys were staring. "Even I can't remember exactly what goes on here anymore – it just runs by itself."

Vinnie looked jumpy. He ran his fingers along the edge of the shelves, eyeing the hopeless disorder that ringed the room, before blurting out, "How is this going to find Harley?"

Karma gave him a dirty look, but Hew took it in his stride. "It takes a while to explain. You gonna listen?"

"Maybe."

Karma opened her mouth to tell him off, but Hew didn't mind. "Then I'll explain. The Martian internet, when it was first created, used optic fibres to send and exchange information. After the Plutarkian War started and these fibres were being ripped up and bombed, and whole towns would be cut off for months without any way of contacting for help, the satellite system was introduced and the internet was run by wireless signals from satellites that were off the planet and harder to shoot. And you know how you have to sign on to your server before you go on the net?"

"Yeah."

"That originated from the practice of giving different areas, and eventually different people, an ID number that they were meant to use when they got onto the net in order to tell the satellites just how strong a signal they were meant to send out to accommodate everyone. Every single person has a different identity trail. Probably the only good thing the government ever gave us. Every single time Harley got onto the net, no matter where she went, it would be tracked – and if we can just figure out her individual track number, then we might be able to find out if she's ever been on the internet since."

"It's that easy?"

Hew looked up at Vinnie and grinned. "No. No it's not. If she hasn't been using her own ID number and instead has been using someone else's, then I can't help you."

"Oh."

"However. Nobody else has the technology that I use. Not even Martian Intelligence. So at least you know that if I can't help you, nobody can."

"You're gloating, Hew." Karma leaned against the old desk and dished out her saintly smiles with reckless abandon.

"It's true, though. Old Hew here has more at his fingertips than the prettiest government on the planet. And he can do it with a toddler in his lap." Hew looked at the laptop and smoothed his hands over the surface. "Did she make this herself?"

"I think."

"Nice little piece of work. Might be a bit clunky running, but very pretty. Your girl's artistic." He plugged it into the powerpoint and grabbed Jin-Jin off the floor. "Do the honours, Jin-Jin?"

Jin-Jin looked at the laptop carefully and pressed the 'on' button. The laptop lit up like a flare. "Beautiful, honey." Hew put the little girl back down and she grinned up at Karma. "I do good."

Karma swept the little girl onto her lap and gave her a hug. "Last time I saw you, you were about as big as that laptop."

"Nah, wasn't." Jin-Jin was quite decisive. "I'm a big girl."

"Not as big as me."

"I got big _voice_!" Jin-Jin yelled. "Bigger'n _yours_!"

"Argin Reconnoitre, we don't need that noise." Hew was still waiting for the laptop to boot up.

Jin-Jin smirked. "Bigger'n Daddy's, too," she whispered to Karma. Karma grinned widely.

The laptop finished booting and asked Hew for a password. "Any ideas?"

"It's 'tailbone', last time I checked."

Hew tried it and it worked. "You friends with this girl?" he asked Vinnie.

"Of a sort."

"Hmm." Hew said nothing else about it. He got up off his chair and went around the back of the laptop. "Hasn't got the right port. We'll need to do this manually." He sat back down. "Now. I need a phone line, a lead and a satellite."

One of the boys dove under the desk and pulled out a tangled rainbow of leads. He peered closely at them. "Which one?"

"It's red. Don't worry, Brumby." Hew took the leads out of Brumby's hands and uncoiled the one he needed. "Thanks." Throttle realised that Brumby must be colourblind, and couldn't differentiate between red and green.

"T'sokay." Brumby wasn't bothered – he sat down on the floor, half-under the desk, in case he was needed again.

Hew got up and lumbered around to the back of the laptop again, plugging in the red lead. The screen of the laptop flickered and a box came up, asking Hew if he was ready for some kind of exchange. "Yes indeedy." Hew confirmed.

The laptop started to whirr and asked him for a line to the internet. "Need the hacking disk." The other boy, Deauville, went to a chest of drawers and clattered through a multitude of CDs.

"Purple or blue?"

"I think we'll need a purple, Villy."

Deauville took out a battered purple disk and peered at it closely. "Haven't used it for a while."

"It'll still work." Hew took the disk and loaded it onto Harley's laptop. "See?" The laptop buzzed busily and asked Hew to wait while it loaded.

Hew sat back and folded his hands over his stomach. "Could be a while. How's it goin', Karma?"

"Nicely." Karma shrugged. "Had a few jobs."

"They turn out OK?"

"They turned out the way I wanted. So yeah. They were OK."

Hew nodded sagely. "Good to hear."

"I'm happy. I got a new place."

"Whereabouts?"

Karma smiled. "I can't tell you that. It's classified."

"Always and forever, the secret spy." Hew smiled back.

"Can we come visit?" Brumby piped from the desk.

"As many times as you want, honey. But you can't tell anyone where I live."

"I won't remember anyway. Will you come visit us?"

"I'll try."

"These kids miss you," Hew mentioned. "Ah, good. We're booted." He leaned forward, flicked a few keys and pulled up a stack of numbers and figures on the screen. He looked them over and started to type.

Karma was very quiet and looking at the floor. She didn't say anything. Throttle noticed that the boys were looking at her almost mournfully, like they agreed. Jin-Jin wriggled in Karma's lap, trying to think of something nice to say. "I don' miss Karma t'all."

Karma's mouth twitched. "Good to know, Jinni-Jin-Jin."

An empty silence fell across the room until the laptop beeped expressively. Hew sat back, satisfied. "Now, just hook up the satellite…" he pointed at Notch and told him to fine-tune the tin can. _What the fuck_? But the kid seemed to know what he was on about, because he trotted out of the room. "Might be a bit of interference for a second." The lights flickered and buzzed above their heads. "Tolja."

There was a howl from down the hall. "_Notch_! What are you _doing_? Get away from the powerboard! _Hew_!"

Hew winced. "I'm gonna get it."

Ducati boiled into the room like an avenging angel. "_Hew_! I don't _care_ if you're saving the world – Notch is _eight years old_ and he is _not. Touching. THE POWERBOARD. AM I CLEAR_? Do it yourself!"

"The kid knows what he's doing."

Ducati didn't like that. Not at all. Karma saw the kids slinking out of the room and decided to follow suit. "We'll see you guys later. C'mon, _boys_." They fled back to the living room as a spectacular domestic dispute erupted with volcanic alacrity in the computer room.

Karma sighed and swapped Jin-Jin to her other hip in one plunging motion. "You guys hungry? Because I am."

"How'd you know, doll?"

"Ducati ain't the only thing in this house that's been growling." She slapped the back of her hand on Vinnie's stomach curtly. "Notch, can you help me in the kitchen, sweet?" She vanished through the doorway.

The guys sat on the couch and listened to the roars of rage that echoed faintly from the back of the house. Karma hummed tunelessly in the kitchen and gave Notch some biscuits and bread to take out to the guys on a plate. She followed with four cups and some tea.

"How do you know Hew?"

Karma sat on the couch. "Hew's just a good friend. Did me a lot of good." She wriggled over to make space for the kids and then had to make peace as they started fighting over who could sit in her lap.

Modo was looking wistfully at the photos on the walls. There were a lot of pictures of the kids and of extended family – albinism seemed to be predominant on Ducati's side of the family, judging from the collection of snowy-white, gem-eyed adults and children. His eyes trailed around the walls, half-taking in their wide smiles.

He noticed one particularly large photograph in a blue frame on the wall closest to the TV set. He considered it closely. It was one of those rare photographs that really captured a moment where everyone was happy – Ducati and Hew were sitting side by side on the couch, a baby Jin-Jin in Hew's arms. On the floor were the three boys, wrestling with a young blonde woman with a long plait of hair. The woman had one of the boys in her lap and was fending off the other two with one arm. Ducati and Hew were laughing at their antics, and Jin-Jin was trying to climb down so she could join in. The boys thought it was hilarious, and the woman's smile was radiant.

"Miss Karma? Is this you?"

Karma looked up and paused for a second. "Yes," she said warily.

"You look a lot younger." _And happier_.

"I shouldn't. It was only last year that they took that. It was Brumby's birthday."

"I was four then," Brumby added. "She got me a present."

"You still got it?"

"Nope." Brumby reached for a biscuit and chewed on it loudly. "Dad sat on it."

Karma laughed so hard that she started crying. Jin-Jin, who had won the coveted throne of Karma's lap, moved indignantly and Deauville pounced into prime position. Jin-Jin zoned in on the teapot.

"Don't touch that, bubbles, it's hot."

"I no get burn." Jin-Jin's hand edged ever closer.

"I said don't touch that, honey." Karma stood up, deposited Deauville on his feet and swept Jin-Jin into the air. "Wanna see something?" She started taking off her jacket.

"Story-time!" Throttle wasn't sure who said it, but the kids swarmed to her feet and crowded around. Jin-Jin was about as offended as a two-year-old girl can get. "_Put me DOOOWN_!"

"Look at this." Karma parted the thick fur on her right forearm to reveal a large, pinkish burn. "When I was little –"

"Evvything happen when you're little!" Brumby seemed incredulous. "You always getting cuts when you're little and I'm _always_ careful."

"That's a good thing, Bee, being careful is a wondering thing. See, when I was little, I grabbed a teapot just like you were about to do, Miss Jin – and it was too heavy for me, and I dropped it. It was full of hot tea and it spilled all over my arm and I got a big burn, just like this one here." The kids examined it closely with innocent fascination. "And it was so bad that I had to go to hospital and I cried so much that the doctors had to put me to sleep with this disgusting medicine. And I still got that mark, and if you don't want a big ugly burn on your arm, then don't touch the teapot."

Jin-Jin was still defensive. "It not ugly, it _pretty_."

"You know what it is, Jinni." Karma smoothed her fur back over her arm and said nothing else about it. Jin-Jin stayed very far away from the teapot.

Ducati and Hew finally ended their domestic and came back into the living room. Ducati went crazy all over again. "Oh _no_, you didn't have to get your own food, you could have just come and asked me – if you're hungry I'll make you something, but of _course_ you're hungry, you wouldn't get food if you weren't, so I'm going to make you something now, don't touch the teapot, Jinni, it's hot –"

"Yeah, make ugly burn."

Ducati stopped for just a second. "Yes, that's right. Who told you that?"

"Karma have ugly, _ugly_ boo-boo onner _arm_."

Ducati's eyes shot from her youngest to Karma on the couch, who shrugged. "I told them a story."

"See Jinni, that's why you can't touch the teapot, you'll get a big sore on your arm, I need to make dinner for the kids, are you staying the night?"

"I think so. You got room?"

"There's some room out the back, I'll make some beds as soon as I get dinner – Hew, can you tell Karma whatever it is you need to say and then help me, maybe get the boys to help with making the beds, and Jin-Jin needs a bath –"

"_NOOO_!"

"Notch, my darling one, don't let her hide in the sheets cupboard again, we'll never get her out. Villy, come take the garbage out, and Bee, I would like some help with stirring." Ducati vaporised back into the kitchen and the kids shot in all directions – Notch scooped a screaming Jin-Jin into his arms and headed for the bathroom.

Hew collapsed wearily into an armchair and yelled after his eldest as he left the room. "Notch, you can't touch the powerboard."

"Awwww…"

Hew half-smiled and then turned his attention to Karma. "Welcome to the madhouse."

"It's like I never left. Although Jin-Jin can run faster now."

"And can talk. She's going to be a diplomat one day, she already negotiates with her brothers. She's probably already signing a deal with Notch right now while listing a three-point plan informing him of her rights during bathtime."

Karma giggled and then was all business again. "What'd you find on the laptop?"

Hew leaned his forehead in the palm of his hand. "You've got quite a clever little girl," he sighed. "She's been using her ID number, but she's tried to cover her tracks and she's done a good job. I could only get one clear signal."

"Any signal is good." Karma leaned forward. "Where is it?"

"There's a little town south-east of here." Hew got off his chair and walked to a large map on the wall. "It used to be called Lair, but they changed it after the war."

"Beaconsfield." Karma knew what he was talking about.

"That what they call it now? Not much of a change." Hew and Karma smiled at each other knowingly. "Anyway, there's a very old signal from there. Maybe two or three months old. I don't know if it's worth checking out –"

"Hew, I'm on a cold case. Anything is worth checking out."

"You better get outta here, then."

Modo interrupted, looking slightly flustered. "Mister Hew, we won't stay here if you don't have no room. Ah mean, there's three of us –"

"Four of you, you mean."

Modo paused, then continued carefully. "Well, you already know Miss Karma and ah'm sure she's welcome here, but ya don't know us other three." He nudged Vinnie, who nodded madly.

Hew folded his arms. "It's a good point, but if Karma trusts you then I'm not bothered too much. We'll make room somehow, we always –"

A loud splash from the bathroom signified that Jin-Jin had just gone swimming, and judging by her murderous shrieks of rage she wasn't too pleased. Ducati's voice boomed overhead. "_Hew! Drowning child!_"

"Gotta go." Hew scooted to the bathroom. Karma looked at Modo with some amusement. "You didn't need to say that."

"Ah know, but –"

"Calm down, big guy. There's room enough."

"Ah jist don' want us to be in the way, Miss Karma."

"You're not in my way, Modo." She vanished into the kitchen to help Ducati before they could say anything else.

"Awww. She _does_ care!"

"Shut up, Vincent."

* * *

It turned out that there was plenty of room, not exactly _in_ the Reconnoitre household, but rather under it. Steps from the veranda led to a wide basement-turned-bunker that more or less matched the house's floorplan. Throttle had thought that the family had used it during air raids until Karma corrected him. "Hew won't mind me telling you this – he used to smuggle refugees and hide people down here. It was a lot more hidden back then. Ducati's family stayed down here for a little while too, I think."

"Why her family?"

"Ducati's an ex-hush-hunter. [Author's note: a special kind of high-degree assassin employed by the Army during the Plutarkian War.] She shot some stinkfish diplomat and then had to hide here for five months while they bombed the crap out of Yellerbax trying to find her. She _will_ mind that I told you that, so you heard nothing."

"Is that how she met Hew?"

"Indeedy. She was pretty hot property in her day. I think we may make a romantic out of you yet, Snow-Balls."

They made their own beds and spent the next two hours eating enough food for a small army – everyone had dinner together and the kids entertained them as they tried to get Karma's attention by any means at all. Jin-Jin had her bath and decided to use her bowl of mashed potatoes as a helmet ten minutes later, resulting in another bath and a very articulate argument regarding why this should not occur; "Coz if I get hungry, coz I din'neet dinner, then I kin'neet it when go bed, coz have 'tater in my hair n' can eat the 'tater in bed!"

"Oh, that is organic _win_." Karma was convinced that Jin-Jin was a prodigy. "That would _so_ hold up in court of law."

Not soon after, Deauville tried to hide his piece of _hesh_-broccoli in a glass of milk and Brumby refused to eat anything unless he sat on Karma's lap, where he proceeded to steal parsnip off Vinnie's plate and then flick it at Notch, who at the age of eight years had somehow achieved the kind of inner peace that Buddhist monks yearn for and rose above the chaos around the table as though it simply wasn't there.

It was somehow the best meal that Throttle had ever had. The food was fantastic and they had to beg Ducati to stop cooking and actually eat with the rest of them; the kids were inventive and hilarious and the kitchen was crowded and warm and full of soft fur. And Karma, by far, was completely at ease. She was funny and smiley and her laugh, her real laugh, took up the whole room. There was no Mace and there was no Harley, there were no Plutarkians or bullets or bombs. There was, however, yet another tray of buttermilk potatoes in the oven ("Ducati, I love you, but _stop!_"), and a clapping game that Jin-Jin wouldn't stop reiterating until she was sure that everyone had learnt it, and Hew leaving Modo in hysterics on the floor after telling him another joke that nobody else understood, but still laughed at because Modo's hilarity was so contagious.

"Jin-Jin. Bedtime."

"_NOOOOOOOO!_"

"Boys. Bed."

"Night, Karma…"

And then there were dishes to clean and tables to wipe down, and then even a double moonrise to watch on the veranda. And then suddenly it was close to midnight and Modo and Vinnie and Ducati and Hew had gone to bed a while ago, and Throttle was still sitting on the veranda with Karma, who had just lit her first cigarette for the night.

"See what I mean? This is why I love these people. They don't care, there's no prerequisites with them." She leaned back on her deck-chair and stretched out her body. "_Ow_! You friggin'…"

"You need your shoulder done."

She sighed. "I guess."

"I'll do it."

"Go for it." She walked inside the house and came out with a small medkit. "Shoot."

Her shoulder wasn't too bad, but there was some deep bruising around it that was only just starting to surface now. The wound itself was scabbed over and warm, but not hot. He only cleaned it briefly as she sucked on her smoke and bound it up again.

"Look pretty?"

"Well, it's not ugly."

"Really? That's good."

He asked her something as he tied the bandage off. "Hey, I don't want to pry – but where'd you get that burn on your arm?"

He was expecting some kind of gory story. _Someone attacked you with a flamethrower. Someone threw a live shell and you raised your arms to protect yourself. You got too close to a faulty gun with blanks and the gunpowder went off at the wrong time –_

"It's actually a birthmark. I was just trying to make a point." Karma's face was split with a grin. "Don't tell the boys, it'll ruin their fun. They think I'm some kind of ragdoll that keeps bouncing back, no matter what you do."

"Oh." He tried not to make it obvious that she'd just ruined his fun as well. "They didn't seem too fussed about it."

"Oh, that's not the first time I've shown them a few battlescars. They want to know how I got all of them and when there's four of them grooming through your fur it's hard to say 'I don't know'. Sometimes if Ducati lets me I give them a moral trip and a show-and-tell. 'Don't run and be very careful when you help Mam with the dishwashing, because I ran with a knife when my Momma told me not to do that and I got a big cut on my leg' and I'll show them a random scar, stuff like that. I tell them that everything happened when I'm little. I make it into something that they can understand and something that won't upset them."

She paused for a second, biting her lip. "I love these kids. I really do. They love story-time but I'd never tell them the truth about where I really got some of these marks. You know, they had their house stormed once by Plutarkian footsmen – they trashed the whole place and then nearly beat Hew to death in front of them. The boys were only little, I mean Brumby was practically a baby, but they're still very traumatised by it. They need something that's not as scary."

He was struck yet again by the depth of understanding that she felt for people. She could be thrown into any situation and would know exactly how to go about herself.

"Hey. I know this is really fuckin' dumb." She was being deliberately gruff to make it sound like she really and truly didn't give a shit. She clearly didn't realise how clued-in he already was to her tactics – if she didn't give a shit, she wouldn't even be asking. "But this has been in my head since Brimstone. Old girlfriends?"

"What?"

"In Brimstone you said I reminded you of an old girlfriend."

"When did I say that?"

"After Carbine rang me. I told you my beef was that I hate people telling me to do my job and you said your beef was that I reminded you of an old girlfriend."

"I never said that."

"Therein lies the point, you didn't say anything. Do I?"

He was silent for a moment as he realised that depending on how determined she was to find out, he could have a lot of fun with this.

A _lot_ of fun.

"You really wanna know?" Just to tease her.

"Kinda."

"You know, you never struck me as a 'kinda' kinda girl…"

"What kinda girl is a 'kinda' girl?"

"Someone who doesn't know what she wants."

"I don't want anything, I'm just interested."

"Why?"

"Coz it helps pass the time."

"You _sure_ you wanna know?"

He could hear her teeth grinding ever so softly. She was _dying_ to know. "It's just a question in passing, that's all."

He was loving this brief moment of power. "It's not just a question."

_Burn, burn, burn_. "It _is_ a question, I just wanna know why I remind you of an old girlfriend."

"I never said you did."

"That's the point, you never said anything and I wanna know _what you would have said_."

"What if I don't want to say anything?"

By strange some instinct, Throttle knew the hackles on Karma's neck were on end. By some even stranger instinct, this excited him.

"I don't even know if I wanna know anymore."

"But you do. Otherwise you wouldn't ask."

Karma hated these kinds of games. She wasn't even totally sure why she was even asking about Throttle's old girlfriends, but there was this unnerving fluttery feeling in her stomach that wouldn't go away. She honestly couldn't care less. She really couldn't. It was none of her business, it was probably a stupid story anyway. Who gave a crap about Throttle's old girlfriends?

His voice purred down her neck. "Still curious?"

Her nerve endings buzzed. _I really don't want to think this._

_But you're very, very sexy when you do that._

"I don't even really care anymore," she said.

"I'm gonna tell you anyway."

"Good!" _Oh CRUD IT_. She tried to backtrack. "If you really want to get it out, I'm all ears."

He leaned back on his elbows against the veranda rail. "You seem pretty interested." _Here we go again_.

The scar on her chin was twitching like it had a mind of its own. Her voice was low and her eyes were clear. "Throttle. You're teasing me. I hate 'teasing me'."

He smiled slowly.

"Well, if you really want to hear this story…"

"_You_ seem more interested in telling it than I am in hearing it."

"Oh, that's OK. I won't tell you if you're bored." He stretched his arms to the ceiling. "I'm gonna go to bed." He got up to go inside.

Karma was on her feet and bracing herself in front of the steps to the bunker before he'd even managed to stand up straight. Her eyes were feverish and her tail was lashing like an angry snake. She was still obviously confused as to why she wanted to know so badly, and truth be told he was confused as well. But it had been too perfect an opportunity to play around with her head, and "amused" overruled "confused" as he took it upon himself to weave an intricate net out of absolutely nothing at all.

"You're in my way."

"Tell me why I remind you of a goddam ex-girlfriend."

"Maybe in the morning."

"_Now_."

"I ain't got no time for bedtime stories, pretty lady."

Karma was on the verge of exploding into a million little pieces. She was so fixated it had to be bad for her blood pressure, but that was exactly how she _didn't_ want to feel. A brief notion of quizzicality would have been bad enough – engaging with his tricks, and she _knew_ perfectly well how he was manipulating her, was beyond humiliation. She was Karma "Don't Fuck With Me" Supersede, for God's sake. She didn't give a flying copulation about anything except getting a job done. Instead she was acting like she was thirteen years old.

"Just tell me. I'm politely curious." She kept her voice very, very low. The best approach to this, she reasoned, was to get it over with. Then she would make Throttle swear, on pain of lots more pain, to never bring it up again.

He was still smiling and it was infuriating in more ways than just one. Firstly, it was because he knew that she knew that he knew that he held all the cards. Secondly, it was because she'd only just fully realised now that he was gorgeous.

"Well…" he drew it out long and slow. Karma looked like she was about to throw herself on the ground and cry. Slowly, he sat back down in his chair. "Alright. It's not that interesting anyway."

Karma stayed right where she was, as though afraid he was about to do a runner. He inhaled laboriously. "When I started out in the FF movement, I initially acted as a scout and a messenger. Back then there were no ground rules – you did whatever was quickest. So you were only told to go to Point A from Point B and they didn't give a damn how you got there, just as long as it was fast."

She'd managed to unglue herself from the steps, but she was still standing up. "Is this important?"

"I'm telling the story, just shut up and listen. I was given a message by Stoker that I had to get to some obscure base in the middle of nowhere – it got bombed a week later, I don't even know why he wanted to get something there in the first place. _Any_way, speed was of the essence and I started planning my route, and I realised that the quickest way to get there was to zip out in front of Plutarkian military lines. So I go to Stoker and I say 'Stoke, there's no way I can get this message there without getting shot by a stinkfish.' And Stoker says 'Well punk, why don't you take someone with you?' And I say 'Stoke, that sounds like a great idea, but I don't want some rookie on my –'"

Karma actually growled loudly. The scar twisted beneath her fur, but he only frowned at her. "Hey, don't interrupt, you wanted me to tell you! So I basically say yeah, go ahead, I'll have someone tag along but they better be good. And then Stoke calls this chick over, coz she's literally just standing in the same room, and asks her if she'll tag with me, and she goes 'Yeah, sounds like fun.'" He paused for effect. "And she was also the, _the_ hottest thing that I'd ever seen."

Karma sank onto the chair next to him, like she was weak at the knees. "So away we go, we've got this message and we've got to get to this base. We get talking on the way and she's smart and she's got a great sense of humour and she's a bit of a wild-child, y'know, my type of girl. And I think she likes me too, though I don't wanna push anything, I mean I've got a job to do. So we ride out for a day and then we get to the Plutarkian lines. We don't want to attract too much attention, so we decide that we'll get off our bikes in the hottest zones and walk it. And that's what we do, there's no trouble, we get through to the base and give them the message. Then on the way back, we get in a bit of mess."

Karma's eyes were huge. "What happened?"

"Well, there was this plain that bordered into the Plutarkian fronts, and on the way back this girl gets nervous – she reckons that we'll be picked up by the stinkfish if we go back the way we came and that it'll be safer if we go through this plain, because stinkfish don't usually track through their own territory. Only problem is that we'll have to walk the whole way across the plain until we get to safer ground. I think sure, that's OK, we've already delivered this message and it could give me a chance to get to know this girl a bit more. Stinkfish? What's a stinkfish? So we get off our bikes and wheel through this plain, talking the whole time."

Karma was sitting on her hands like a little girl. He was loving every minute of power he had over her. "We get to this rocky bit and we start getting careful because there are usually mines hidden among rocks. We start picking our way and we don't talk at all so we can pay attention. She was right behind me and I can remember it was dead quiet, so quiet I could hear the creak of my bike's wheels. And then I heard this click."

Karma inhaled sharply.

"This girl, she'd been paying so much attention to her own feet that she hadn't been paying any attention to her bike. And she wheeled her bike straight onto a mine."

_Oh my God_. Karma was riveted.

"Anyway, she freaked out. She started crying and wouldn't move and said this was her Dad's bike, she wasn't gonna leave her Dad's bike in the middle of nowhere for the Plutarkians to take away. And I'm trying to make her move, if we don't move we're bound to get found out by some Plutarkian scout but she's not going anywhere. She told me to keep going and don't worry, she'll figure something out, and I'm like no way, babe, I'm not leaving you anywhere."

"What'd you do?" Karma's voice was hushed.

"Well, I had this anti-mine bolt that I always took with me, just in case something like this happened. It'd delay the time that the mine would go off by about ten, fifteen seconds, ease the disc up real easy, so that'd give us enough time to skedaddle, but it wouldn't be enough time to move the bike. And this girl is totally determined to take the bike with her. So I'm like 'I can't do anything else, honey.' And then she looks at me and she goes 'Well fuck you, I'll just defuse this thing myself.'"

Throttle was actually enjoying himself, not just because Karma was staring at him with the sort of adoration that kids reserved for grandfathers who had a perchance for telling really good bedtime stories. "Well, I think this girl is insane. But she does it, she gets down on her hands and knees and starts poking around the insides of this mine with a bit of rusty wire. And I'm dying to just run and get out of there, because if this thing goes off we're all sky-high, but I can't just _leave_ this girl there. So I ask her 'What are you going to do?' and she says 'I dunno, I think I have to pull a wire to lock the disc'."

"Click-mines," Karma said softly. "You can lock 'em tight if you pull the gizzards."

"Whatever. She's there in the dirt jabbing this wire that I wouldn't touch with a ten-foot pole into the guts of this fuckin' mine. And she's starting to look real confused, she's saying 'There's no wires in here, I dunno why this isn't working.' And she's not being too gentle either, she's poking and stabbing and really digging into this mine, and I'm standing there just freaking out that this thing is going to go off at any second."

Throttle paused for effect. "And then she just starts laughing."

"Why?"

"She's lying there suddenly just laughing her head off and I'm going 'OK, you're hot but you've just lost your mind.' And then she gets up off the ground and she just hugs me with dirt all over her, and then she reaches over to her bike and pulls it forward. And nothing happens. The mine clicks up and absolutely nothing happens. There were no wires in there to start with, the thing was a friggin' dud."

Karma stared at him for nearly a full minute – a long time, when considered – before saying, "That's _it_?"

"Yeah. We got through to the other side and back to base OK. And she became my girlfriend."

Karma stared at him a while longer, still not able to believe it. "So nothing… the… wait…" She stopped and gathered her thoughts. "The only reason I remind you of an ex-girlfriend is because of the recurring dud mine?"

"Yeah."

"Nothing else."

"No. It was just a parallel of circumstances."

Karma looked so let down that he felt slightly guilty. It was a bit of bastardry on his part to work her up so much and then tell her some stupid story that had no relevance to her at all. "We were together for a long time, too." _As though that's gonna make it any better, you tool_.

Karma's eyes sank, and then rose again. "So who was she?"

"Who was who?"

"The girl."

"Oh." _Shit. She'll kill me if I tell her._ Throttle pretending to think for a second. "Um. Jeez, I can't remember now."

"You bastard. That story's a heap of shit, you were winding me up."

"The story's true."

"Then who's the girl?"

There was a very long pause. Throttle bit his tongue.

"Carbine."

Karma's mouth sagged open. "What?"

"It was Carbine."

The look on Karma's face was all he needed. He waved goodnight, completely unable to hide the grin on his face, and went to bed in the knowledge that he may well be the first and last person in the universe who could verifiably claim that the beautiful and tempestuous Karma Supersede could indeed bear a startling resemblance to a stunned mullet.

_

* * *

_

YAAAAAAY!

Love youse all, rah-rah-rah. And GUESS WHAT! If you click the button below this sentence that says 'review', and you fulfil all of the requirements of writing said review (i.e. write it), then one lucky reviewer will win a MILLION DOLLARS! Note that these will be Australian dollars, which are currently worth three-fifths of an American dollar, which is MUCK-ALL. So you'll get a cosmic hug instead.


	11. Pink and Painful

Hello and happy new year, my chickens, my darling ones, my lovely little munchkins! Read away to your heart's content.

* * *

Pink and Painful

Ducati Reconnoitre usually rose much earlier than her hyperactive, hysterical family. The sun had only just started to bleed through the curtains of her and Hew's bedroom as she slid her body out of bed, pulled on a gown against the morning cold and shuffled down the hall. Between four kids and a husband, it wasn't easy, and though she wasn't an early riser (Hell, she'd slept till midday before she met Hew), mornings were usually the only time when she had a little respite.

Early mornings were also usually the only time when she could go outside and not get burnt. Ducati's pristine fur, although appearing white, was actually colourless – the hairs were in fact transparent and only looked white because they reflected what little light there was to rest on it. This made her skin vulnerable and prone to sunburn. She was also photosensitive and as a result could see normally in environments that other people would consider being dim or dark. There was only a faint gold line edging over the horizon as she trotted down the front steps of the veranda and stood barefoot in the front yard – it might have been too dark for some people to see properly, but this was Ducati's midday.

The sunrise hadn't been much different from this one when Ducati and Karma first met. Ducati was heavily pregnant with Brumby at the time. She was outside, watching her two albino toddlers tussle in the early morning cold, when a feral-looking blonde woman pulled up on a feral-looking bike and yelled at them, quote unquote, to "get the fuckin' Hell inside _now_." A clumsy Ducati didn't know who she should pick up first, her four-year-old Notch or her three-year-old Deauville – Karma leapt off her bike, seized one child in each arm and shot up the balcony stairs, Ducati in heavy pursuit. Twenty seconds later a trio of Plutarkian scouts attempted to open fire on their house – Karma went outside again and shot two of them before they could even get their blasters up. It turned out that someone had tipped the Plutarkians off about Hew's hacking abilities and his harbouring of fugitives and wanted him to disappear. Karma found out and did what she did best – track and shoot when necessary. She left again that afternoon, nameless and angry. A week later news came through that Karma had organised a false death certificate for Hew and optional alternative identification. Ducati was grateful, but didn't expect to ever see her again.

She did. A year later, the Plutarkians found out that Hew wasn't actually dead and raided their house, this time trashing the entire place and beating Hew with cudgeons and prod-sticks while Ducati and the boys watched from the corner, howling with fear. Again, Karma appeared out of nowhere. The Plutarkians ignored Ducati and the boys and left Hew on the kitchen floor, certain that he was dead. Karma and two other private trackers met them outside and shot them, one by one. Then Karma climbed through the wreck of their house, found Ducati's trembling little family, and lifted the two boys into her guardian arms while Ducati shivered behind her, clutching baby Brumby. They sought shade underneath the house while Karma went back inside and resuscitated Hew before carrying – _carrying_ – Hew's battered body out again. Ducati couldn't remember when an army med-van pulled up, but after Hew had been strapped down and the van had driven off, Karma crawled underneath the house and coaxed Ducati and the boys into the back of another van. They were driven to a military base and kept there for three weeks as Hew woke up from a coma and had his left leg completely restructured in the hospital wing. After those three weeks, Ducati and the boys went home without Hew, and found the same feral-looking blonde woman sitting in their de-trashed lounge room, having replaced and reorganised furniture where it was needed, before guarding their home like a mother dog in case of any more Plutarkian assaults. She stayed with them for another three weeks until Hew came home on crutches, and then checked in every other day. Back then she'd been edgy and wary about getting to know people, a skinny chain-smoking girl just out of her teenage years and aggressively shy. The boys adopted her instead of the other way around. Since then Karma had just sort of melted pleasantly into the family. When Jin-Jin was born with her fuzzy blonde fur, Karma had to beg Hew and Ducati on bended knee not to name their baby after her. They compromised by letting her think up a nickname for little Argin – Ducati wasn't sure if Jin-Jin even acknowledged her birth name on paper, because she never answered to it.

The sun peered just above the skyline and Ducati screwed her eyes up. A small cry from inside signified that Jin-Jin had just woken up. Sighing, Ducati padded back up the stairs and shut the door.

Jin-Jin was still only half-awake, but half-awake is awake enough when you're two. She rubbed her eyes with a little fist one last time and jabbered away as Ducati plucked her out of her cot and onto her hip. "Mawwww…" her words were swallowed in a yawn. "Ma?"

"Yes, darling one?"

"Where Karma?"

"Karma's sleeping, my darling one."

"Wek up!"

"Don't you dare. Where's my good morning?"

"Morny, Ma."

As they passed the boys' bedroom, Jin-Jin yelled at them. "_Wek up, boys!_" Her brothers grunted in perfect unison and rolled over. Ducati turned on the stove in the kitchen and started lining up everything she was going to cook for breakfast in rows on the bench. Jin-Jin wriggled down her side and ambled around the kitchen.

"Ma?"

"Yes, darling one?"

"Where Karma?"

"Karma's sleeping."

"_Where_ Karma?"

"Under the house asleep, bunny-rug."

"See Karma."

"Maybe later, I need you to help me make breakfast." Ducati had to keep an extra careful eye on her youngest – ever since she'd learnt to walk, Jin-Jin had decided that the world was her oyster and had started wandering. She'd also learnt how to open doors, a trick that had left Hew and Ducati running in circles around Yellerbax screaming her name. It was one of the reasons why Jin-Jin was always dressed in colours so obscenely bright that she could be spotted for miles with a pair of manual binoculars. Her pyjamas right now were a near-radioactive pink.

Ducati fried her first piece of gemsbok bacon for the day and broke off a piece for Jin-Jin. "Here, bubs." Jin-Jin sucked it appreciatively and sat in the middle of the floor, her sharp little teeth crunching loudly. It kept her quiet for five minutes as food started to pile up next to Ducati's stove.

"Ma?"

"Yes, darling one?"

"Where Karma?"

"Under the house asleep."

Jin-Jin decided that she'd heard this all before, and had a bit of a think. "Why?"

"Because she's very, very tired."

"Sun up." Jin-Jin pointed out the white-gold ring edging the perpetually drawn curtain. "Wek up now."

"No. Do good listening, Jinni. Remember the rule in this house? When it's time to wake up, Mam will come to get you. Sometimes it will be dark and sometimes it will be light."

Jin-Jin screwed up her face – her vocabulary was huge for a two-year-old, but not big enough. She wanted to know when Mam was going to wake Karma up, but couldn't think of the words.

"Ma…"

"Yes, darling one?"

Jin-Jin was silent. Ducati shrugged. Echolalia was normal for Jin-Jin.

The blonde toddler finished off her bacon and stood up. "Ma, yucky." Ducati cleaned her greasy hands without looking and turned back to the stove. "Jinni, go wake up your brothers."

"Eh-yeah." Jin-Jin waddled out of the kitchen and through the lounge room, heading for the hall where her brothers' bedroom door stood. She paused as she noticed that the front door was slightly open – Ducati hadn't closed it properly as she'd gone back inside.

Jin-Jin looked over her shoulder to make sure Mam didn't notice.

_Wake up, Karma!_

Jin-Jin squeezed through the door and onto the veranda as Ducati's voice trailed out of the kitchen. "Jinni?"

* * *

Jin-Jin was a precocious child by nature, and very observant for her age. Her balance was superb and her fingers were nimble and accurate. She could undo complicated bolts and knew how to use a key. She knew that Karma was sleeping under the house, and if Jin-Jin was awake, then Karma had to be awake as well – after all, it was Karma's duty in life to play with Jin-Jin. According to Jin-Jin.

The blonde toddler crawled down the balcony stairs bum-first and trotted around the side of the house, her little tail flip-flopping behind her. She already knew how to open the bolt on the paperwood trapdoor that led down to the bunker, but she didn't have to worry this morning – Karma had clearly considered that it might get warm under the house at night and had left the trapdoor open, only drawing the net screens across the doorway. Jin-Jin slid the screens back with ease and lowered herself bum-first down the stairs again. The limestone floor was cold and dusty – Jin-Jin's hands were black by the time she reached the bottom.

There were four beds that folded out from the wall in a row. Karma and the boys were sound asleep. Jin-Jin huffed and waddled up to Karma's bed.

"Karma, _wek up_!"

Karma's mouth opened and expanded in the longest yawn ever. She rolled to one side. "That Miss Jinni?"

"_WEK UP, EVVYONE!_" Jin-Jin had clearly taken it upon herself to rouse the whole planet. "_SUN UP, BEK-FAST TIME!_"

Modo nearly rolled out of bed and only just stopped himself landing on Jin-Jin, who was barefoot and dressed in bright pink flannelette pyjamas. "Miss Jin, whatcha doin' down here?"

"Bek-fast!"

Karma stretched and reached over to shove Vinnie malevolently on his shoulder. "Upsie-gets, baby boys. The lady says so."

Vinnie muttered something foul and Karma hammered him with her pillow. "Don't _say_ that, the baby's in here!"

"She don' unner-stan…"

"Wanna bet? She's not meant to be talking in sentences until she's _four_. She only needs to hear something once and she'll repeat it all year! Jinni, you need to tickle Vinnie." Karma seized Jin-Jin and plopped her on Vinnie's bed. "Tickle, tickle, tickle!"

Jin-Jin loved this game. She pounced on Vinnie and squirmed her little hands against his neck and his underarms. Vinnie squealed like a girl and nearly knocked her off. Jin-Jin responded by pounding her fists against his back. "_NO_! You _bad!_"

Karma swung her bare legs out of bed and pulling Jin-Jin onto her lap. "Where's my good morning?"

"Morny, Karma."

Karma pointed at Modo. "Say good morning to the big guy."

"Morny, Ig Eye."

Karma got up, dressed only in a pair of undies and her singlet, and pulled on her jeans. "Is Mam awake, Miss Jinni?"

"Yeah…."

"Did she say you could go outside?"

"No…"

Just then a vaguely frantic Ducati bawled down the stairs. "_KARMA!_ Is _JIN-JIN_ with you?"

Karma yelled back in kind. "Yeah, she's here!"

"Oh, thank goodness. You know I have to dress her in bright pyjamas because she goes walkabout these days, even though she _knows_ she's not allowed to –" Ducati babbled non-stop as she hobbled down the stairs, "– and it's the only way that the neighbours know she belongs to us or can see her on the road, you can see her pyjamas for miles, _Jinni_, you're a naughty girl! Did I say you could go outside?"

"No…"

"You say 'sorry, Mam' and you come back inside."

"Soy, Ma. Wanna see Karma!"

"When it's time to wake up, Mam will come and wake people up. Sometimes it will be dark and sometimes it will be light." Ducati said this at least five times a day.

Throttle had woken up by this time and had just managed to glimpse yet another scar that ran up Karma's thigh as she pulled her jeans on. "I just realised something."

"What?"

"Jinni and Vinnie rhyme." She stretched her arms to the ceiling and stopped quickly as her shoulder creaked like an old ship. "Gar humby lakka-lakka _sheee_."

The guys stared at her, utterly confused by her gibberish, but Ducati huffed with laughter. "Your Misaa is _awful_. Accents you can, but languages you cannot."

"What was I meant to say?"

"I'd rather not have Jin-Jin learn that particular phrase, but its _gahum bi'la kala ka shi_."

"Ma?"

"Yes, darling one?"

"What you say?"

"Karma said that her shoulder is very sore."

"In what?"

"In Misaa. Like how Gramma speaks. You know when Gramma speaks to you in Misaa?"

"_Geche geche mei_!"

"Yes, like that."

"Priddy girl." Jin-Jin pointed to herself and grinned. Ducati swept her off the bed. "Don't think you're still not in trouble, Miss Argin."

"Jin-Jin!"

"You went walking. We've talked about this, Mam and Da have told you over and over again that walking by yourself is _not allowed_." Ducati overpowered her indignant toddler as she lumbered back up the stairs. "Breakfast in fifteen, twenty minutes, take your time! Thanks for finding Jinni, Karma!" The screens clacked loudly back over the doorway.

"You speak Misaa?"

"I try. But I suck at it."

[Author's Note: In the Mad-Eyed Owl universe (and in case my clever readers hadn't already figured this out), Misaa is the original tongue of Martian Mice before the introduction of Commontongue, a literal universal patois that is spoken widely on most planets. Misaa, much like Latin, is now rarely spoken and is considered to be an academic language, though some traditional Northern tribes still speak it. Ruti, conversely, is the language of the Rats, and is still widely spoken in many Martian Rat communities.]

"Why?"

"Why do I suck?"

"No, I meant why you want to learn to speak Misaa."

"Just for the Hell of it." A pause. "And because it helps get you into certain circles."

"Misaa's a dead language." Throttle swung himself out of bed, wearing only his jeans. Karma shook her head.

"Not entirely. On the surface, yeah, but it's handy to have because so few people understand it. A lot of organised crime syndicates only collaborate in Misaa and I've had a Hell of a time trying to track them in the past because I had no idea what they were talking about. Ducati's been trying to teach me, but I still suck."

"How can she speak Misaa?"

"She says she's a native speaker – her family speaks in Misaa all the time. She wants to teach the kids but I don't know how it's going." She tried to run her fingers through her hair and winced. "Ow."

"Bad hair day?"

"Shut up, Snow-Balls. You don't have any."

"I got plenty… where it counts."

"Oh, you are _sick_." Karma attempted to suffocate him with another pillow. "Sick, sick individual! Can I kill him?"

"Can't. We need him for comic relief."

"And maybe, just maybe, we might actually see him die in during a stunt."

"You don't mean that!" Vinnie's voice was thick underneath cotton and feathers.

"A truer word was ne'er spake." Karma removed the pillow from Vinnie's face and whacked him around the head for good measure, yelping when she had to move her shoulder too far. "You _bastard_! You're not just a sick individual, you're a _sadist_!"

"I didn't do anything!"

"You cause people unnecessary pain, swear in front of babies, _snore_ like a pregnant cow –" Karma had to stop as she winced and massaged her shoulder.

Throttle was concerned. "Are you alright?"

"I'm fine. It's just stiff, is all." She paused. "I think I might have slept on it."

"That was smart."

"Ya-ah. Hey, Mister Modo."

"Yes, ma'am?"

"Can you check this out for me after breakfast? You've got an eye for such things, so to speak."

Modo actually laughed. "Yes, ma'am."

Karma tied her hair up in a knotty bunch and yawned widely, walking towards the stairs. "Better hurry up, or the boys will eat all the good bits of breakfast."

Throttle called after her. "Will it be as good as dinner last night?"

"Oh, my darling one." Karma threw one of her beautiful smiles over her shoulder. "It will be _better_." She skipped up the stairs, the morning sun glittering over her fur.

"She's so cute when she does that."

"Which particular bit?"

"_All_ of it." Vinnie half-fell out of bed. "The smile, the blondeness, the backside, the little twitch in her tail as she hop-skips up the stairs…"

"You need to get more on your mind, Vincent." Throttle had no idea why he felt the slightest flame of jealousy as Vinnie sang her praises.

He obviously wasn't awake yet.

* * *

The guys got dressed and found the front door of the house open. A huge commotion greeted them when they walked into the living room – Karma was sitting on the couch and had managed to get all three of the boys onto her lap, in a way. Deauville had claimed prime position, Brumby had his legs wrapped around her torso and was slowly climbing her like a tree, and Notch was perched on her knees, his tail wrapped around one of her shins. Jin-Jin was on the floor screaming and demanding that she be included.

"You can't _gooo_!" Brumby wailed in Karma's ear. "It's not _faaair_! We never _see YOOOUU_ –!"

Karma was wincing in pain as Brumby leaned on her shoulder. "Brumby, baby, I –"

"_NOOOO_! You _always_ say that, _NOOOO_!"

"No, baby, you need to get off my _shoulder_!"

Ducati finally intervened, marching out of the kitchen and smacking a spatula against her hand, making a loud cracking sound. "_BRUMBY RECONNOITRE, we don't need that noise! Get off_!" She clenched the spatula between her teeth and picked Brumby up by the scruff of the neck with one hand, then seized a howling Deauville in the other. Notch had already fled. "_Sit at the table WITHOUT A WORD OR THERE WILL BE TROUBLE_!" She swung them through the doorway and thumped them on their feet.

Karma leaned forward with agonising slowness, one hand on her shoulder, until her head was almost between her knees. Silent tears were tracking down her face. Ducati took one look at her, picked Ducati up from the floor and shoved the toddler into an aghast Modo's arms. "Get in the kitchen and help yourself to breakfast."

Throttle wanted nothing more than to find out what was wrong with her – _I only redressed her shoulder last night. It was fine. It was fine? Did I miss something? It was only last night_ – but Ducati's voice cut through him like a knife. He did what he was told, only just catching their words as he closed the kitchen door – "What happened?"

"I got shot."

* * *

Ducati and Karma were immensely similar in a lot of ways – it was one of the reasons they got along so well. Ducati often entertained the notion that Karma was like a little sister. Neither of them were like some of the take-it-sitting-down apathetic women that she knew. If something needed to be done, Ducati do it, and she'd been like that for almost her whole life. It was the reason she became a hush-hunter and again the reason for resigning – she _needed_ to get married and have a gazillion kids and settle down and fight and love and be normal.

Karma hadn't even considered reaching for the normal stage yet. Ducati knew, therefore, how difficult Karma's job was. She also knew, therefore, the immense difficulty that Karma faced when she had to tell the truth.

"What happened?"

"I got shot."

"Nicely done. I except this hurts."

Karma began to sob.

Ducati unbound the wounded shoulder as Karma tried to breathe evenly through her nose. "Sorry. It, um…" Deep breath. "It just hurt a bit."

Karma's fur, thick as it was, had drawn back from the red scabbed pit in her flesh. "Has your fur been falling out?"

"I dunno. I haven't been paying attention."

"You should be."

"I don't _need_ to, it's just a _shot_."

"Don't talk to me as if I'm stupid," Ducati said fiercely. "I might act like the scatterbrained housewife but I've seen a lot more than you have as yet."

Karma was silent.

Ducati ran a thumb over the exposed pink skin, noting how oddly warm it was. Not hot yet. But worryingly warm. [Author's Note: in the Mad-Eyed Owl universe, and as you all know, infected injuries in humans give off as many obvious alarm bells as possible, with inflamed skin, pus, weeping, etc. Martian skin, due to evolutionary adaptations to protect them from the sun, doesn't do this. It will close up injuries of the skin even if they are infected. Mixed blessing.]

"This is getting an infection under the skin, Karma."

"No it's not," Karma grumbled. "I'm tracking a highly-wanted as-yet-to-be-tried individual with the Three Stooges. It's not allowed to get infected."

"Yes it is. Murphy's Law." Ducati gave Karma the evil eye as she opened her mouth to argue. "Don't argue with me, I'm a mother of four."

"Y'know, ten years ago you would have said 'don't argue with me, I'm a hush-hunter…'"

"That's called dirty play." Ducati allowed herself a smile.

"No I ain't." Karma sighed and sat back. "Mother-of-four is much scarier, honestly."

"You're quite the clever-trousers for someone who has a hidden infection right under their fur."

"I _don't_. It's just sore –"

"Sore enough to make you cry. I see."

"My eyes watered."

"You're a clever girl, Karma. Just humour me."

Karma turned her head and frowned as she tried to get a look at her shoulder. "It doesn't _look_ bad."

"It doesn't have to _look_ bad to be –"

"Oh, I _know_, I _know_, alright? Just… I just don't want to make a fuss. Y'know? Those guys will freak if I tell them it might be infected, they're like _you_, they'll put me in a bed and then I'll lose this job and I won't be able to do _anything_ about it –"

"_H'shah, mei, h'shah, ma'la bez tij'shin_."

"I don't _want_ to be quiet!"

"Good grief, is this how you carry on all the time?"

"No. I only act like a petulant toddler when I'm with you."

Ducati stood back, put her hands on her hips and laughed. "You're acting like Jinni when she's skinned her knees."

"I know. I'm sorry."

Ducati sat down next to her. "This shoulder of yours – when did this happen?"

"Week and a bit. It'll get better."

"It _might_ get better…" Ducati sounded doubtful. "You should go to hospital."

"No."

"If you leave this alone and it gets worse, this will go into your bloodstream."

"But it won't."

"Don't tempt fate. Go."

"No. It'll be fine."

"At least get some antibiotics."

"_No_ –"

"Do it or I'll tell your cheer squad."

Karma's mouth went slack. "You wouldn't."

"Nothing would give me greater pleasure." Ducati paused. "Except identical twin girls with red hair."

"You would not _dare_ tell them."

"I will give you some antibiotics, and you will take them. It might clear up the infection."

"Might?"

"If it doesn't, you get yourself to a hospital immediately."

Karma's dark blue eyes met Ducati's hot pink ones, trying to stare her down. "You should have been my mother. Then my life would have made more sense."

"If I were your mother, your name would be something ridiculous – like Jin-Jin."

"Fair point."

"Good. I'll get those antibiotics."

"Fine."

"I want you to take them."

"Dammit…"

"You're welcome." Ducati got up and went to the bathroom.

Karma sat on the couch, her fingers fiddling with each other. She prodded her shoulder warily – _SHIT, ow!_ Her teeth grounded against each other. _Fuck you, Grenade Blasko_.

It had been bothering her last night, just a little. She decided what the Hell, she'd been shot, whatever, and fell asleep on her left side. She'd woken up with a dull heartbeat-thump ache deep in the bone.

It was already infected. Not badly. The antibiotics would clear it up. They had to. She didn't have _time_ to get sick, there was no _time_ to go to a doctor's. The guys didn't suspect a thing.

That was what was important. _Just keep the guys lulled in their happiness, let them think we're going to find Harley, and I'll deal with this later_.

She still didn't know what she was going to do about Mace. Find him, or… or pretend to find him.

_God, I so don't want this job._

Ducati came back with a two sheets of bright yellow pills and a glass of water. "Here you are. Take them with meals until they run out. Breakfast is the perfect time."

"Uh-huh." She took one of them and stuffed the rest into her pocket.

"Now go eat."

"Yes Momma."

"You're _very_ lucky I'm not your mother."

"I actually think I would have been the luckiest girl alive, if you were." Karma gave her an angel-smile and floated through to the kitchen table.

_You gorgeous little smart-arse_. Ducati smiled and followed her through. _Just you wait until _you_ have kids._

"You OK?"

"Go away." Karma brushed Throttle off like a fly and sat down next to him, reaching for some toast. The boys sat in a row, eating breakfast and arguing noisily over something that Karma couldn't quite interpret. Jin-Jin was on Modo's lap, to her surprise – the toddler didn't usually like strangers. But Jin-Jin was more than happy to sit on the lap of her enormous "Ig-Eye". To her he was just a big mouse-bear with a heartbeat. Modo, of course, was completely in love with her, and kept feeding her bits of his own breakfast. She was crunching on her fourth piece of gemsbok bacon with both hands as Ducati sat down and eyed her beadily. "How many bits of bacon have you had, Jinni?"

"One."

"How many, Modo?"

"Um… she's had three."

"And the other one I gave you this morning. That's four, Jin."

"One," Jin-Jin grumbled obstinately.

"Where's Hew?"

Ducati got up again to stop Deauville and Brumby hitting each other with spoons. "_Hey!_ Put those down, give me those – and you're all in trouble anyway, you need to apologise to Karma for hurting her shoulder."

Brumby looked at Karma dolefully. "I'm sorry."

Karma smiled. "That's OK, baby."

Brumby smiled back, then caught his mother's eye and looked at the floor, trying to look suitably chastised. Ducati sat back down. "Hew? I think he's outside, giving your bike the once-over."

"Did I ask him to do that?" Karma looked puzzled for a second.

"You don't need to ask Hew – he knows things already. Except when to do the dishes or the washing."

Karma chuckled and sank her teeth into her toast.

The front door banged open and Hew walked in with his hands held in front of him like a zombie. "Don't touch Daddy, Daddy's very dirty!" He went straight for the sink and started scrubbing. "Morning, Karma, Throttle, Modo, Vincent." Each of them answered hello.

"Good morning to my _beautiful_ wife –" he planted a kiss on the back of Ducati's neck, and she turned scarlet and smiled. "Good morning my three strapping boys – and of course my beautiful little princess."

"Morny, Daddy."

Hew sat at the head of the table and reached for the coffee. "I fixed up Baby for you, Karma – can I ask, did you have a collision?"

"No." Karma's voice was thick around a pancake. "Why?"

"There's a lot of dirt in her gears – and there was this really _weird_ dent in her chain and her chassis, I gave her a new one, hey, pretty princess –" Jin-Jin had slid off Modo's knee to sit on Hew's, "– I just don't know what it was, I thought you might have gotten careless."

"Absolutely _not_. No, there were some kids back in Brimstone who threw rocks at me."

"Ouch. Jinni, how many pieces of bacon have you had?"

"One." Jin-Jin had just tried to pilfer food from his plate.

"She's had _four_, Hew, Jin-Jin, put that back, you've had enough for today." Ducati took over. "Notch, are you finished, put your plate in the sink, Brumby, you're helping me with washing dishes today, Deauville, you're wiping up –"

"Not fair, I did it yesterday!"

"Notch is going into town with Dad to pick up some computerware, and after that you and I are going shopping, so Notch has to clean up at dinner. Deal?"

"Yeah…"

"Good, now Karma, I've packed you some food for the road, if you don't take it I'll give it to your men because I _know_ they'll take it –"

"My _men_?"

"Those things, the big hunk-a-spunks you lug around with you these days –" Ducati was grinning, "– where did you get them anyway, I'd like some to keep as spares around the house…"

Karma hid her face in her hands as the guys laughed. "That's not funny, don't encourage her. Alright, give it to us for the road."

"Good, it's on the bench, _Jinni, no more bacon_! Come here, you need to go for a run so you'll sleep at midday –"

"_No sleep_!"

"_Yes_ sleep, Hew, can you take her with you?"

"Yep, sure thing."

"Thanks, my darling one, Jinni, you're going with Daddy now, boys, go get dressed, Notch, your shoes are under the TV cabinet, Jinni, come with me, what colour will you wear today?"

Jinni stopped to think. "Gween?"

"That's a good idea. And a pink hat?"

"Pink hat!"

"Alrighty, let's go pick some clothes, come here, bubba –" she lifted Jin-Jin onto her hip as she stood up and shoved a piece of toast in her mouth, "– Karma, what tam are 'oo 'oing?"

"After we finish breakfast and pack up."

Ducati swallowed her toast. "Boys, say goodbye to Karma, she's going after breakfast, _no fuss_," she added as Brumby took a deep breath in order to howl. "Remember, Karma doesn't live here, she's working."

"Yeah, I guess…" The boys sidled up one by one to get a hug. Throttle noticed Karma only gave them one-armed hugs, preferring not to move her left arm. _Is her shoulder still hurting?_ Then Jin-Jin toddled up to stand on her lap and wrap her arms around her neck in a strangulating hug before trotting off to put on her green clothes and her pink hat. "What kind of green?"

"Let's just say she'll look like a small nuclear reactor with legs."

"That's good."

"We'll be able to locate her with a Geiger counter, she'll be that bright. Brumby, what are you doing? I'll be right back – bye for now, my darling one, _try_ not to get yourself shot again –" she knelt to kiss Karma on the cheek and give her a hug, "and remember what I said about those pills."

"Will do. Bye, I'll try and drop by when this is all over."

"You're always welcome here. Brumby, what are you _doing_?" She walked out into the living room.

Hew stood up and stretched. "Well, another day, another dollar. Have fun, kids. Karma, you're like a sacred relic around here, you know we love you."

"Like I said, I'll drop by." Karma stood up and gave him a hug. "I think we're gonna go now. Boys, mosey."

"What food has she left us?"

Modo inspected the bag on the bench. "Wow. Ah din't know you could pack food in chronological order."

"What's there?"

"Well, we got lunchfood on th' top, n' ah'm sure there's a salad n' other thangs down below fer dinner, n' there's breakfast agin under that –"

"God bless Ducati."

"All hail Ducati!"

"Go away, Vincent. See ya, Hew." Karma got up and walked back through the living room. "Bye boys!"

"She talking to us or your kids?"

"Dunno. You better run."

"T'was good t' meet you, Mister Hew."

"Likewise, Modo. Look after my girl, hear? She attracts trouble like Jin-Jin attracts mess."

"Yessir." They filed out and Karma shut the front door behind them.

"Modo, you wanna carry the food?"

"Yes, ma'am."

"Thanks."

"…Yer welcome, ma'am."

"What?"

"Nothin', you… just said thanks."

"I know. What's so weird about that?"

"…Nothin'."

"Ugh, whatever." She went to gush over Baby. "Lookit _you_! You're all pretty now!" Baby gleamed in the sun.

Karma mounted up and started Baby's engine. "We good to go?"

"Yep."

"Good, good."

"Where we going now?"

"A place called Beaconsfield. It used to be one big brothel. Now it's one big brothel with refugees."

"A brothel?"

"Don't get so excited. You sick individual." Karma pulled out of the driveway and onto the road. The guys followed.

"I happen to have a healthy interest in the everyday goings-on of the underground sex-worker."

"I'm sure you do."

Throttle gunned up next to Baby and looked Karma over. She appeared to be absolutely fine, her fur glittering, her body relaxed.

_You're so gorgeous._

"How's your shoulder?"

"It's fine. It was just sore, that's all. Brumby hit it too hard." She shrugged him off.

"How is it now?"

Karma sounded confused. _Didn't I just tell you to go away?_ "…It's fine."

"But it was sore this morning."

"You're a shit cross-examiner. If it's bad, I'll ask for help." _I just won't ask it from you_.

"OK." _I'm so not convinced_.

"OK?" _God, can't he just let this go?_

"OK." _She was crying and now it's fine? I've missed something. She couldn't just burst into tears like that._

"Good. Shut up."_ Answer back and I'll scream._

"OK."

Karma screamed. Throttle nearly collided with a kid on a bicycle.

"_What the HELL was that for?_"

"Nothing. I just had to get that off my chest."

* * *

I expect at least one review for the new year. So go get 'em tiger.

Speaking of tigers, my best and most curiousfan, curiousfan, is getting another shout-out - she's to be congratulated for getting a new job at her state government! So from this point forward, any reviews that I recieve will automatically (and symbolically) be added to hers, so she looks really hella-popular and full of win, as she already is. Simply because that was the best present I could give her...

Anyway, kids. Peace out.


	12. Coming Alive at Night

...Do what you will. Scream, cry, beat your tiny fists. I know. Fine. Karma and I had a small disagreement and I abandoned her by the side of the road. But after six months, she's done what she does best and she's tracked me down.

I've forgotten what hard work it is to write a good story.

Enjoy a long-awaited, albeit perhaps slightly crappy chapter, kids. Hope it doesn't let you down.

* * *

Chapter Twelve: Coming Alive at Night

Beaconsfield was about ten or twenty klicks away from Yellerbax, seemingly in a remote location and with a similar situation to a utopia. It only took five klicks for an argument to break out – Vinnie thought it was rude of Hew not to offer services to _his_ bike, because after all he was travelling just as hard as Karma. Karma was offended and told him so, with as many explentives thrown in as possible. Modo tried to break it up, only to be dragged into and out of the argument like a cat dragging a bird through a hedge. Throttle took Karma's side.

Y'know. Just for the Hell of it.

And because she was right.

And to make it even.

Yeah. Making it even for her.

"Shut up, Throttle, this has got nothing to do with you!"

Back in my box.

Vinnie and Karma squabbled for ten minutes while Modo and Throttle tagged along like kids in the back seat. "They'll be married next."

"Somehow ah doubt it."

"_You are on the point of VULGAR! Hew is MY friend_ –!"

"And Harley is _our_ target! _OUR target! OUR mission! MY BIKE NEEDS_ –!"

"_I don't CARE if_ –!"

"See? She don't care. No weddin' bells."

"Amen, bro."

Another ten minutes passed. Yellerbax eventually trailed away behind them, leaving only a relatively narrow surfaced road that sliced darkly through an expanse of bleached yellow desert with bruised purple cliffs far in the east. The ruins of old buildings, half-desecrated by bombs and ransackings, still stood about twenty metres away from the side of the road. Throttle was shocked, even with all the things that he'd seen, to find that there were still people living here along the sides of the road, both in the destroyed buildings and in dirty tents. They would scuttle away a few metres as soon as they saw any approaching traffic and would stare with fearful eyes. They were more like animals, not people.

Karma seemed just as surprised – if that was the right word – to see them as he was. "_Je_-sus – nobody's cleared up Beggary yet."

"What's Beggary?"

"Places like this, outside Yellerbax. Doesn't matter where it is, 'slongs its outside the city we call it Beggary. The people here can't afford to live in the city, they're too poor. They don't want to anyway. They were always there when I was a kid, stealing food in the markets and then walking back here in the evening. If any buildings close to the edge of Yellerbax got bombed during the night, sure as Hell they'd move in by morning. It's part of their culture, it's just what they do. People always said they'd disappear when the war was over – _shit_ –" Karma swerved as she nearly hit a beggar who was too slow to get off the road.

"Look what you did!"

"Don't you _dare_ argue with me about my driving, Vincent van _fucking Wham_ –"

They passed a few more parts of Beggary as they continued along the road. On the odd occasion, the buildings and tents would turn into villages, of a sort. Yellerbax country must have been much more populated at some point. Throttle gazed at the scenery. Modo hummed something that sounded like a lullaby. Karma's voice was going from husky to hoarse. Vinnie was becoming shrill. "_How is this any different to a team effort? We're here, we're a team, END OF STORY!_"

Karma began to laugh cruelly. "A freakin' _team_?" She stopped to clear her throat – her voice was going. "You weren't much of an advocate of _team_ –"

"I _was!_ You're just being _bitchy_ because you've never had to do this before."

Karma audibly groaned. "Where did this little bitch session come from?" she muttered, half to herself. Throttle piped up.

"Vinnie didn't get his bike serviced by Hew."

"_That's_ right." Another tiny Beggary nation, which looked larger than the others that they'd previously passed, emerged near the dusty horizon. "You're jealous."

Vinnie took her bait like magic. "I am _not_."

"Fuck off, you so are."

"Of _what_?"

"Of me being able to get small perks, just because I've been in this business for longer than you have. And that is _considerable_, because you've been in this for, what… five days? If that? Hew is not some servant or a grease-monkey. He serviced my bike as a favour, _shut up_ –" she snarled as Vinnie opened his mouth to whinge again, "– and why does your bike even need a service anyway? Looks fine to me. Anyway, my point is that Hew is a friend. He didn't even need to service Baby and he did regardless. He's not going to be wasting his time making your little red racer a little shinier."

Vinnie didn't speak for a few minutes. All that was audible was the rumble of engines. The approaching slum grew in front of their eyes.

"OK." Vinnie sounded slightly calmer. "I do think it's a little less than fair." They passed the first tent of the slum. Throttle was surprised to see there were quite a few buildings up ahead – the edges of the town were in ruins, but the heart was mostly intact. They were so far away from anywhere that it seemed out of place.

"And?" Karma's voice was resigned.

"Maybe you could _make_ it fair."

"By?"

"By giving us the same… perks."

The Beggary slum had clearly been a small town before being blown up half to Hell – the road they were taking was being treated as the main street, with dusty tracks snaking away to what might have once been houses and obviously were still being treated as such. They clearly still had some form of electricity, because even from this distance Throttle could see neon lights sparkling on the larger buildings that lined the main street. They passed a sign that was no longer legible, a gravestone to what this place had once been.

For some strange reason Karma began to slow down. "Ah, jeez. I give up. If you wanna get your bike serviced, I'm happy to give you plenty of time to get it serviced. Solved?"

Vinnie harrumphed. "I still think you should have told Hew to –"

"Do you want a smack?

"You know, that is the _one_ phrase that has always pissed me off. My mother used to say that to me, 'do you want a smack?', and I'm like 'Well, no, not really'. That and 'do you want me to come over there?' I was like 'no, fuckin' stay over there' –"

"I dislike you." Karma's bike rolled to a complete stop in the middle of the road, engine still running, and she rolled her shoulders back in a luxurious stretch. The guys dawdled to a halt.

"Why are we stopping?"

"Because we're here." Karma looked at Vinnie with utter disdain.

"What?"

"Are you deaf or merely stupid, Modo?"

"What is this?" Vinnie was looking around like an agitated chicken. "Did we go past Beaconsfield?"

"No, baby. This _is_ Beaconsfield." Karma put her visor down with brief interest. "It's a little different from how I remember."

Throttle was aghast. "You are _joking_."

"Must've been bombed during the war –"

Vinnie wasn't about to be put back in his place with a few fast facts. "This place is a _hole_."

"Funny you should mention that." Karma's voice was dry. "Geographically, it is indeed a hole in the ground."

"I can only hope you're trying to be humorous."

"Who says I'm not?"

"Me. _Duh_." Vinnie rolled his eyes.

"Oh, and you're _such_ a great judge of good clean fun."

Vinnie was quiet for a second. "No I'm not."

"That's the point, idiot, I'm being sarcastic."

"Well, you suck at it. Seriously, you've been like this all day, what's up your butt?"

"You." Karma said it without thinking; her eyes widened and she spun around. "I take it back, I take it back, please do _not_ make any dirty reference to _anything_!"

"I wouldn't dream of it."

"You think _I'm_ a bitch."

"I'm not a bitch. I'm merely bitchin'."

Modo chimed in. "Vinnie, ya're gettin' on mah nerves as well."

"Sorry, bro. It's just that she's so funny when she's PMS-ing."

Karma couldn't reach him with her arm, so her long blonde tail flashed out to smack the back of his helmet. "Fuck you, Snow-Balls. C'mon, lets go find somewhere to stay."

"You didn't even ask me this time."

"Ask you what?"

"If I wanted a smack –"

_Whack_.

"Oww…"

* * *

Beaconsfield was a surprising little gem cast in the surrounding wasteland. Throttle counted eleven mostly-intact buildings lining either side of the main street, including a few shops, bike repairs – and a strip club. Devil's Den, it was called, or at least that's what it said on the sizzling pink-and-blue sign above the grotty doorway. Open til early. Strange that a strip club would be able to stay open in a place like this. Strange that anything would be able to stay open, come to think.

Karma caught him staring at the club. "You curious?"

"Um… kind of."

Vinnie and Modo turned simultaneously to stare at him in complete bewilderment, but Karma chuckled. "You never know, we might get to go in there at some point."

"Ha! Karma made a funny."

"You forget, Snow-Balls, that I don't have a sense of humour."

"It was a bad funny."

"Do you want another smack?"

"Why do you keep asking stupid questions?"

Karma growled to herself, parked Baby beside the road and walked off in search of the pub ("the source of all things knowledgeable and good", quipped Vinnie), telling them to wait for her. She walked off with a swagger in her step, like she owned this dusty, dirty little town.

Throttle leaned on his bike's front handlebars and checked out the scenery. There didn't seem to be a lot of people around, which was weird for a town this big, even if the town had had the shit bombed out of it. Right now the only people he could see were two scraggly teenagers, a boy and a girl, smoking outside the bike repairs shop, and an elderly woman pottering around the front of her supplies store. These places were unusual for their area – instead of being stilted with a veranda, they were made of solid white brick and stone, boxy with tiny windows and flat rooves, sometimes almost cubic. The strip club was the only building that was remarkably different – it was made of red stone with double doors, currently closed, and large windows criss-crossed with tiny wire so it was difficult to see everything that was going on inside. Probably a coaxing tactic to get people to go inside. It was the largest building in the whole street, most likely in the whole of Beaconsfield. Throttle could see a petrol engine down the side – _so that's where they get their energy_. It was dark inside – the lights probably went on at night.

"Where is everyone?"

"Ah dunno. Ah was wond'rin mahself."

"Well, I think I can find out." Vinnie jumped off his bike and approached Baby's saddlebag. Baby rumbled warily and inched out of his way.

"Easy, girl, I'm only getting one thing."

Baby growled, clearly unsure what to do. She skittered a few time as Vinnie carefully rummaged through her saddle-bags, talking to her like she was a nervous animal. "Easy, girl, it's OK… I'll be done soon. That's it, you're fine, aren't you…?"

"It's just sort of wrong the way you're talking to her, Vincent."

"Hey, I'm an expert at soothing a nervous woman." Vinnie tutted at Baby, who almost shivered and made a _voomy-voom_ sound in response.

"What am I doing?"

"Getting bribes."

"For _what_…?"

Just then Vinnie produced a packet of cigarettes and triumphantly closed Baby's saddlebag. Baby edged away and stared at him, grumbling. "I have the bribes. Now I need the bribee." He raised his voice and yelled in the direction of the two teenagers down the street. "_Hey kid!_ Come over here!"

The two teenagers jumped and looked at him, startled. Vinnie raised the packet of cigarettes above his head. "_Come over here!_"

The guy began to move off, obviously rattled, but the girl looked at her companion with great disdain. It was so still in the town that they could hear her from far away; "Yeh wimp. I ken't unnda'sten whah I heng out witcha."

She grinned with yellow teeth as she sucked on a cigarette that she'd rolled herself as she wandered over towards them. Her accent was extremely heavy and her fur was incredibly red, even redder than that of some people in Yellerbax. She wore dirty black eyeliner that had smeared a little. "Kinna help yeh, gennel'mern?"

Vinnie waited for her to reach them before he spoke again. "You're not from around here, are you?"

"Naaaaa." She drew it out, long and slow. "Ah from de North. Not de North North, not de darkie terri'try. Jus' North."

"What's your name?"

"Rekker'ning. Are dem feh me?" Reckoning eyed Karma's cigarettes in Vinnie's hand.

"Depends. You want 'em?"

"I'm eddick'ted. Best poison dere is 'round here."

"For every question we ask, you get a cigarette. Deal?"

"Ooh, I like det. Go fer it."

"Ask away, my bros." Vinnie sat back on his bike, obviously very satisfied with himself. Reckoning turned to them, scarlet eyes wide.

Modo started up hesitantly. "We was jist wondrin' where everyone was."

"Ah, dey here n' dere. Dis town ent too big." She snapped her fingers. "Cigga?"

Vinnie handed her one and she tucked it behind her ear. "Ta. Next?"

"It looks pretty big to me."

She smiled at Throttle. "Lutta pipple left hurr long tam ago, left homes n' shops n' sturrf lak det. Other pipple, dey com 'round, here n' dere. Mah femmily, dey come runnin' frum de Plutarkians, come down here. Some pipple live here, but we git lotta other pipple who come here temporary, dey stay a week, dey pay, dey leave, dey come bek. Works fer ivvyone. Cigga."

Vinnie handed her another cigarette – this one she tucked into her jeans. "Enneh'thin else, gennel'mern?"

"There's nobody here." Throttle wasn't satisfied. "You said people leave, people come back – for all we know the only people actually _here_ are you and us."

Reckoning laughed in his face. "You jus here et de wrong tarm."

"Oh yeah?"

"Durin' de day, ivvyone's slih'pin. But when de sun go down, dis pless come al'aave." Reckoning was smiling, half to herself. "If yeh stey de night, yeh might fund out. Best yeh don't faand out naow. Jus weit n' see fer yeh'selves." She looked at Vinnie, who handed her two cigarettes.

"Go enjoy those."

"Ta much. Mebbe see yeh when de sun go down." She laughed again and walked back to her male friend.

Karma came back at that moment, walking up behind them. "Chattin' to the locals?"

"You could say. What news do you bring, pretty lady?"

"Good news and better news. We have a place to stay, the publican reckons he's got two rooms above his lovely little bar that are always open for rent, and they've never been used –"

"What, never never?"

"Never ever never."

"In a prime real estate location like this?"

"You're running out of oil, van Wham, that wasn't even original."

"I'm sorry. I'll try harder."

"Make me laugh on the inside."

"Do my best." Vinnie saluted.

Karma walked up to Baby and fished around in her saddlebag. "Fuck. Where are my cigarettes?"

"I got 'em." Vinnie held them out to her.

"_Gimme_ those!" Karma snatched them out of his hand. "What are you doing with my cigarettes?"

"Gave a few to the local girl in order to answer questions."

"Baby, why did you not rip him in half?"

Baby growled in response, one low throbbing purr that lasted for a long while. Karma's jaw went slightly slack. "He… what, _why?_"

If Throttle didn't know better, Baby was the epitome of complete embarrassment. Karma clucked over her like a desert hen. "Are… are you OK?"

Baby made the R2-D2 whoopy-whistle sound and Karma touched her dash. "It's OK. We'll get you bike counselling… or something." She glared at Vinnie. "Idiot. Don't touch my bike."

"I won't, in future."

"Pervert. Taking advantage of a helpless bike like that." Karma mounted Baby and trundled up the road, sulking.

Vinnie spread his hands skyward. "What? I did _nothing_."

Throttle sighed. "Come on, Vinnie." They followed Karma up the road.

* * *

The pub was dark and just as empty as the rest of Beaconsfield, except for the publican. He introduced himself as Thriller, and even when he was talking to someone else, he was always looking at Karma. He looked youngish, around his late twenties, and he wasn't being sleazy – it seemed he was more shellshocked that anyone, forget a tall leggy blonde, was staying in the rooms above his bar. He let them in behind the counter and up a narrow staircase to two tiny rooms and an even tinier bathroom that somehow managed to fit in a shower, a sink and a toilet in less than two metres by two metres. There were two couches and two beds. Just enough room for all of them.

"Mighty clean for someone whose never lived here." Karma was trying to be friendly to Thriller, but he only reacted to anything that she said with a mixture of alarm and a sort of eagerness to please.

"M-my wife takes care of it. We used to live up here but… but we don't anymore. She keeps it clean. We got another place. She's here at night and I'm here during the day."

"Must be tough on the marriage."

"Oh, we see each other in passing. When we get enough money we're moving." He sounded far too idealistic for someone of his age and Throttle wondered if he was a lot younger than he looked. Life must be very tough around here.

"Sounds like a plan." Karma was charming to the end.

Thriller ducked his head. "So… how, how long are you planning on staying?"

"Oh, maybe a few nights. You'll be paid, trust me."

"Yes." He clearly couldn't think of anything to say.

Karma just smiled at him. "Thanks, Thriller."

"Oh, that's fine, that's fine. I'll um… I'll leave you, then. Are you coming out tonight?"

Karma raised an eyebrow. "What's that mean?"

"Oh. You don't know. Beaconsfield comes alive at night."

"Uh-_huh_." Karma raised her other eyebrow.

Thriller looked like he'd said too much. "Just, y'know, come out and look… come out and look at night. Anyway, I'll see you guys later."

"Bye-bye." He closed the door behind him and they heard him clunking down the stairs.

Karma's mouth opened in a smile. "'Bye-bye'? Oh, that's cute." She went to the only window in the whole complex and opened it. A slow wind dribbled inside. "Beaconsfield comes alive at _night_, does it…?"

"That's what that kid said too." Vinnie was clearly keen to be helpful. "And that people come and go."

"That so?"

"Yeah. She might have just wanted the cigarettes, though."

"Hmmm." Karma fiddled with her hair, hooking a black stripe with one finger and looking at it thoughtfully. "Interesting."

She straightened up. "Anyway, make yourselves at home." She chucked the keys in Throttle's direction, not even noticing that he almost didn't catch them. "I'm going for a walk."

"What, again?"

"Obviously yes."

"Where to?"

"Anywhere away from you, Vincent. Around town, scope things out…"

"When you gonna be back, Miss Karma?"

"Couple of hours, maybe. Not too long. See ya, _boys_!" She swung out the doorway and shut it with a slam.

"She's a woman of mystery, she is." Vinnie crossed his arms and gazed fondly after her. "You can never quite get to the bottom of Miss Karma Supersede."

"Amen, bro." Modo sighed and sat down on one of the teeny tiny couches, which creaked under his weight. "Ah put dibs on the midget couch. No way am ah sleepin' in the same room with the lady."

"Why?"

"She so unpredictable, she ma'at have some notion of tryin'a murder someone wha'ale they sleepin'."

Throttle sort of smiled. Sort of. "What, you're scared of a pretty blonde?"

"She ain't no pretty blonde, Throttle."

"True." Throttle suddenly felt incredibly tired. "I'm gonna have a nap, man. Wake me up if you have to."

"Sure, bro. Sleep well. Ah'm gonna go look for some food."

Throttle walked into the other room and lay down on one of the miniscule beds. Looked like he was bunking with Karma tonight. Not that he minded. She wasn't as vicious or as mood-swingy as she made out.

He took a deep breath and sighed. He didn't want to get up. He hadn't had time to really stop and think about things for a few days, and there was a lot to think about.

He summarised everything that had happened so far in his head. Carbine had sent them on a mission to find Harley for reasons mysterious. They'd been partnered with Karma, with whom pretty much everyone had a love-hate – mostly hate, sometimes begrudgingly appreciative – relationship. They'd picked up one lead that had led them here, a bombed-out town that only came alive at night. _Makes it sound like a zombie. Or Dracula_. When Charley had first mentioned the Dracula story, he'd been struck by the word. It sounded like a striking kind of name. A good name for a boy. Unusual, but a strong name. There would be intrigue behind that name back on Mars. Dra-kyoo-la.

Why had he been thinking about baby names that day?

Carbine and him had had a deep-and-meaningful on that day, he remembered. Somehow they'd gotten onto the subject of marriage and babies, and it was as though they were lying next to each other. The kind of intimacy that comes after lovemaking or traumatic events. They would just tell each other anything. They talked about where and when they were going to get married when he came home, how many kids they wanted (she wanted two girls, he wanted a girl and a boy and then twins, in that order), what they were going to call them. Megami. Salient. Ambience. Dash (Carbine hadn't liked that one. It was too short, she said). Celerity (hers. Throttle would have liked it if he hadn't heard of the Earth vegetable "celery"). It had been a good talk and kept him in a good mood for the rest of the day.

It was the closest moment that he'd had with her while he was on Earth. And when he came back, she was waiting for him, as lean and beautiful as ever. And he embraced her, wanted to tell her that he loved her.

She'd taken him aside. _We need to talk._

_My God, we do. I'm so happy I'm home, baby, we need to get started on this marriage right away –_

The look on her face had made him stop. She took a deep breath. _I can't marry you._

He'd been so confused, thinking he'd done something wrong, willing to do anything that she wanted to make this work, because she was his whole world. She was his _future_. She was all that he'd ever thought about for years, his aim, his purpose, his dream.

And she told him, in a steady voice and unblinking eyes, that it wasn't going to work. It was never going to work, really. _We fell in love when we were kids, you left when we were kids – I've grown up, this would never cut it for me. I'm not sorry. This had to happen. I'm not sorry._

Throttle remembered briefly that the guy's name was Velochette.

It was one of the names they'd liked for their kids. For a girl, though. Not a boy.

It seemed distant now. Like it was someone else breaking up with Carbine, not him. Something about this trip had made him unconsciously accept the whole thing. He didn't know when. Maybe it was the talk he'd had with Modo at Mrs. Madde's house, or when he'd had that fantastic dinner at the Reconnoitre household, or when Karma had tried to defuse the dud mine he stepped on.

Karma.

…Karma.

She was just in his head. No reason. She was just there. Sitting in a chair, watching him. Her tiger-striped hair shone in a disembodied light and the scar on her chin was twitching rhythmically. She gave him a beautiful smile, such a beautiful smile, and smoothed out her hair. Her hands left bloody smears in their wake.

"Why are your hands bleeding?" he asked.

"Cos my heart's bleeding. I bleed everywhere."

"Can we fix it?"

"Maybe."

"Karma?"

But she wasn't there anymore.

It was OK. He was only dreaming.

She'd be somewhere.

* * *

I know. It's called dramatic tension. You'll find out what happens next, chickens.

Review away!


	13. Neon Black

Alright. So I know I haven't uploaded for a year or so. I have good reason - way back when, I had an operation on my left eye, which is vision-impaired (I was born half-blind), and it was stuffed up fairly badly. As a result, I began to lose vision in my right eye, and I've been legally blind for about six months. So because I haven't been able to see, I haven't been able to type. I recently had another operation where they pretty much restructured my poor old eyes and I now have vision that's better than its ever been. HOORAY FOR VISION! Dance with me. Dance FOR me. Oh, you know you want to.

I'm very happy to see that I have some new subscribers, so I'd like to welcome them to the wonderful festive world of Mad-Eyed Owl. We have a few ground rules - no spitting, no biting, no punching, no lurking, no knifing and absolutely no stealing of one another's fruit punch. Also, Mad-Eyed Owl loves reviews. If you give reviews, Mad-Eyed Owl will give you love. Pure love. All night long.

So be happy, enjoy, fantasise, make out in dark corners with dark strangers (not really - unless you're into that kind of thing) and keep up the love. Thanks guys!

Chapter Thirteen: Neon Black

When Throttle woke up, the sun was just starting to set. There was a continuous hum in the walls that hadn't been there before. Throttle guessed the power had been turned on. _This town comes alive at night_. He sat up, his back creaking like he was an old man. He heard the door closing – that was probably what had woken him up.

Modo stuck his head around the bedroom door. "Hey bro – you awake?"

Throttle slowly swung his legs out of bed. "Yeah, man." His nose twitched. "I smell… is that Chinese?"

"Oh man, that's what _I_ thought!" Vinnie stuck his head in as well, a huge grin plastered across his face. "We were walking down the street and there was this _smell_, right –"

"So we walked into a shop n' the lady was real nice –"

"– _just_ like freaking Chinese! She even _looked_ Chinese! Sort of Chinese. _Whatever_, we have dinner now!"

Throttle got up and walked out into the other room. Modo was bustling around with some paper plates that had clearly come with the meal. The food sat in a paper bag on coffee table.

"T'was so weird. The lady said she din't sell nothin' til five." Modo emptied his paper bag onto the table. "We had t' wait fer a wha'ale a'fore she gave us anythang."

"What'd you get?"

"Dude, we got some potatoes, we got some salad, we got _silt-chicken_ –" Vinnie looked particularly excited at that last one, "– and the potatoes are _fried_, man, that lady is like my mom."

"Did you see Karma anywhere?"

Vinnie had already ripped into his portion of what was probably their dinner, and was too busy to answer. Modo shrugged. "Din't see 'er. We ma'at have to go searchin' later –"

With the perfection of a script, Karma walked in at that moment. "Hi guys." She looked ragged. The moment the door was shut she headed to the single window, pulled out her cigarettes and her lighter, and lit one. "What's goin' on?"

"We got dinner."

"Oh. Cool." She sounded uncharacteristically absent.

"You want any?"

"…Not really."

"With all due respect, Miss Karma-ma'am, you gotta eat."

"I so knew you'd say something like that." Karma didn't even turn around. "Save a bit of it for me." She was panting on her cigarette like it was some kind of elixir.

"Which part?"

"Any. I don't care." She suddenly turned around. "Didn't Ducati pack us food?"

Modo straightened. "Damn. I forgot about that."

"Go bring it up. I think Vinnie's hungry." Vinnie looked up at her through a mouthful of God-knew-what and grinned in thanks. Modo went downstairs to get Ducati's food. Karma turned back to the window, finished her cigarette and started another.

Throttle stood next to her. "Where'd you go?"

"Here and there. Just looked around, really, asked a few people questions."

"You were gone a long time."

"It's a big place. There's a lot to look at." She was really heaving on those cigarettes. Something had happened.

"So… are we going out tonight?"

She glanced at him, startled. "Sorry?"

"Are we going out to see the town come to life?"

"Oh… yeah. I guess we are." She took a deep breath of fresh air this time, not smoke. "Yes. We are. Not for a while, though. Vinnie needs to eat, it seems." A little of her humour crept back into her voice. It was like she was gaining some composure. "You'll find tonight's adventure… interesting, maybe."

"We going anywhere in particular?"

"I'll tell you later. Promise." She reached for her cigarettes again.

Throttle noticed that she was on her third cigarette in about five minutes. "Karma."

"Yo."

"You OK?"

"I'm fine." She looked exquisitely puzzled. "Why you ask?"

"…No reason."

"Uh huh." She dragged heavily and exhaled through her nose and her mouth. "Just… yeah, nothing. Don't worry about it."

He could tell she had been on the verge of telling him something important, but it was no use pushing it with Karma. "OK."

She glanced at him, the scar on her chin twitching in the way that he knew meant she was fighting a smile. "Thanks."

"It's cool." He wasn't entirely sure what he'd been thanked for, but glad that she'd done it anyway.

* * *

He sat down with his bros and they finished off most of the food. Karma wandered over at one point and ate a few delicate mouthfuls with her fingers, stealing them off Throttle's plate. Vinnie made "awww'ing" sounds and it seemed to frighten her away, back to the window to puff on a few more cigarettes. Throttle wished Vinnie would just shut up and leave her alone. She seemed to have enough issues bonding to someone as it was; she didn't need Vinnie giving her a hard time about it.

Vinnie was oblivious. "I'm done!" He leapt up and dived for the bathroom. "_Shower! Whoo!_" The door slammed behind him. Modo started cleaning up like a dithering housewife. Karma turned from the window, a halo of smoke drifting around her face, and watched him with a mixture of fondness and fascination. "You're every girl's dream, Modo."

"'Scuse me, Miss Karma?"

"You're polite, you're buff, you're gentle and you clean up after dinner." She turned back to the window. "Every girl's dream."

Throttle started helping Modo clean up. He wanted to be every girl's dream, too. Karma didn't even look at him, but he was sure he saw her smile. Her ears twitched every now and then, like she was listening.

Outside, bike engines began to rumble. Lights flickered on. Voices rose and rose. Someone began to laugh.

Beaconsfield was starting to stir.

Karma finished her cigarette outside the window, dropped the butt, straightened her back and turned around importantly. "Attention all!" She went and banged on the bathroom door. "When you're done, get your pretty clothes on. We're going out."

The door opened slightly and Vinnie stuck his head and shoulders out of the door, dripping water everywhere. "Where?"

"Devil's Den."

A silence settled over the room. Modo and Throttle looked at each other. "But… isn't that a strip club?"

"Yep."

Vinnie seemed keen, but was slightly bemused. "Not that I'm complaining. But why?"

Karma's face was perfectly straight. "Because I need to satisfy my lesbian impulses."

Vinnie's mouth went slack. Karma leaned against the wall and didn't stop laughing until tears began to run down her face. "Vinnie. Your _face_."

"I _knew_ it. I _knew_ you were gay!"

"_No_, you idiot." Karma swung around. "I'm good friends with the guy who owns it. I popped in to see him this afternoon and he said he'd had some very interesting customers. Only yesterday, a group of about five Rats passed through and spent a little time at Devil's Den."

"And you reckon one of them could be Mace?" Throttle asked.

Karma shrugged and walked away to her room. "No. But I think they might be able to give us a few pointers on where Mace might be."

Throttle turned this over and over in his head, but it still didn't make any sense. He followed her to her room and stood at the doorway for a second. She was sitting on her bed, her bag next to her, brushing her hair. _Pretty_ –

"Can I help you?" _Damn your perve radar._

He cleared his throat. "I was just wondering… how could these Rats know who Mace is?"

"If they live here, they'd belong the same sort of area that Mace belongs to."

"I thought Rats were nomadic."

"They are, within a certain area. They travel seasonally. They live in provinces, like us, and only move around within their province." She began brushing the other side of her hair. "This area belongs to Mace's tribe. They'd probably know him. _Vinnie, get outta the shower, I put dibs after you!_"

"_Yes, Mother!_"

"How did you find out where Mace comes from?" Throttle was genuinely curious. There was nothing about this kind of thing in Mace's file.

Karma went very still for a split second – he could have blinked and missed it. Then she turned to him with a look of surprise on her face. "That's common knowledge. Everyone knows that Mace came from here."

"I didn't."

"Then you're obviously deaf." She shrugged and began brushing her hair again.

Throttle shook his head. _Common knowledge?_ "Hey Vinnie!"

"_Yo!_"

"What do you know about the nomadic habits of Rats?"

Vinnie stuck his soggy head out of the bathroom. "Not much. Why?"

"Mace comes from a tribe that is local to this area. You know that?"

"No. Says who?"

"Says our font of all knowledge."

"Really?" Vinnie's face was actually interested. "Huh. I did not know that."

"_God_, you people are ignorant!" Karma snapped from her room. "You share a _planet_ with them and you know nothing about them!"

"What do we need to know? They kill, they rape, they pillage, they steal, they kill and rape some more, and on top of that, they smell really bad." Vinnie shrugged and turned to go back into the bathroom.

Somehow, he hit a nerve. Karma actually stood up and gave him the ugliest dirty look that Throttle had seen to date. "You people disgust me." She flounced forward and slammed the door shut.

Throttle and Vinnie exchanged looks. "I told you. It's her time of the month."

"I somehow think it goes a little deeper, Vincent."

"What? So she's on the Rats' side now?"

"No…" Throttle chose his words delicately. "I just think she knows something that she's not technically meant to know."

"Pfft. Whatev's. She's crazy as far as I'm concerned."

"Sure, bro."

Vinnie vanished back inside the bathroom. Karma stayed in her room, brushing her hair furiously.

* * *

"_No!_"

Karma was having a tantrum about their choice of clothing. "You look like… like _you! You CANNOT LOOK LIKE YOURSELVES!_"

"I'm sorry. I was born this way."

"Shut up, Throttle! Go and change!"

"These are all the clothes I brought with me."

"_Jesus_." She spun around with her hands on her forehead like someone had just died a horrible death. He couldn't see anything wrong with the way he dressed – this was how he always looked, he was a jeans-and-a-T-shirt kinda guy. Besides, why was she getting so worked up? _She_ wasn't changed.

"_What_, woman? Are we doing auditions now?"

Vinnie giggled loudly and Karma and Throttle both stopped to glare at him. He shrugged, grinning like a mad dog. "You're having a domestic. It's cute."

"Get a life." She looked embarrassed either way. "Whatever. What I want to do is get you into… roles, of a sort. Things that are completely out of context with you. I need to get you to _act_."

"We _are_ auditioning!"

"This is part of the job, Throttle! What you gonna do, wander in, say 'Hi, I'm Throttle Novarise of East Jesus, Nowhere, and I'm looking for Mace Sordovsta.' _That is how things get screwed up_. It is what is known as – say with me – a _classic fuck-up_. That is what _rookies_ do!"

"You two are so cute when you fight…"

"_Shut up, Vincent_!" They yelled at him in chorus and he backed down.

Throttle sighed. "OK, look. You have any ideas?"

Throttle immediately regretted asking that just by the look on her face. Oh, she had ideas. "Throttle. You're the sleazebag who preys on women."

"I _what_ now?"

"Get used to it. Vinnie, you're a college kid who's enjoying the sights and sounds of his first club –"

"Oh, _Hell_ yes."

"And Modo –" she paused and took a deep breath.

And gave him a beautiful smile.

_Uh-oh_.

"Modo. Baby."

"Yes, ma'am?" He looked at her as trustingly as a lamb being led to an abattoir.

"Just for _one_ night –" she held up a finger and thumb about a millimetre apart, like it was the most insignificant thing in the world. "– _one night_ only…"

"Yes?"

"You're a sado-masochist."

There was a long silence.

"OK."

Karma's eyes bulged. "You're _OK_ with that?"

"'Slongs we get to find Harley, ah'm OK with it."

Karma stared at him for a short minute. And then a wicked grin slowly spread across her face. "Why, Modo. I had no idea you were into that kind of thing."

Modo turned scarlet, mumbled something incomprehensible and shuffled away to the bathroom to try and look more like he was into whips and chains.

Karma shook her hair back. "Good. We all get along together."

"Question, Miss Tracker."

"Shoot, Mister Wordsmith."

"What role are _you_ playing?"

Up until this point, Throttle had never thought of Karma as being capable of looking destructively evil. Pissed-off, wicked, teasing, smarmy, all of those things – but not evil wasn't on this list.

Until now.

"You'll see." She could probably crack bones with the way she was smiling. "You'll see."

Modo shuffled out of the bathroom. "Miss Karma?"

Her voice changed immediately. "Yes Modo, my darling?"

"Um… ah'm havin' trouble."

"With what?"

"Ah need… um…" he leaned down and whispered something in her ear. A smile spread across her face with the brilliance of the first sunrise.

"Sure." She followed him into the bathroom and shut the door. When they came out again, Modo looked like he had a black eye.

"Dude, what did she do to you?" Vinnie peered at Modo like his face had been mauled.

"Eyeliner." Karma was smiling to herself as she put her charcoal pencil back in her makeup bag. "Brings out the colour of his gaze _and_ makes him look like he's into S&M. You can say that you lost your other eye in a violent sex accident."

"Ah… what?"

"I'm sure you'll be able to come up with better ideas." Karma tossed her hair back across her shoulder. A tiny scar, right under her ear, glimmered for a short moment. "Throttle, could you lend your bracelets –"

"They're wristbands."

"Alright. Could you lend your _wristbands_… to Modo? Because they're spiky and studded and stuff. And change shirts with Vinnie."

"I'm not wearing his shirt!" Throttle was horrified by the very notion.

"It's not a _shirt_, it's a _singlet_." Vinnie crossed his arms. "It better reveals the male physique and draws the ladies from out of town."

Karma looked like she was about to laugh. "Hey Vinnie, guess what?"

"What?"

"I don't care. Do it."

"But _Mom_…"

"_Now_."

The guys muttered amongst themselves as they changed their clothes around. Throttle didn't miss the way Karma's indigo eyes swept over his body in one motion as he and Vinnie changed shirts. While it helped a little (it was always nice to know that an attractive woman was checking you out), it didn't stop him shuddering as he pulled Vinnie's singlet over his head. It was too tight and made him look like a steroid addict. _He's sweated in this_. Vinnie looked equally revolted. "Man, you _stink_."

"Don't talk to me."

"You better not ruin that."

"These're too small fer mah wrists." Throttle's wristbands creaked as Modo buckled them on. "Do ah have t'–?"

"Yes." Karma's voice was firm.

"Aw."

"I understand. Get over it."

"Why aren't you changed?" Throttle asked. Karma was still dressed in her slightly mangy jeans, jacket and white singlet. She raised an eyebrow at him and puffed out her chest.

"_I_, good sir, am getting changed when we get there."

"Why?"

"Because."

"Not answering. Got it."

"Indeed, Mister Wordsmith. Now…" she looked them up and down. "Throttle, come here."

He approached somewhat warily and she ran her fingers through his hair a few times. He tried not to stiffen. It felt kind of nice. Her nails scraped against his scalp and his hackles rose. He could tell that she noticed, but apart from the tiniest of smiles, she didn't react. "There we go. Now you look _much_ more self-indulgent."

Vinnie stared at himself in the mirror. "I don't see any difference."

"Women will. Try not to scratch your head, Throttle."

Vinnie plucked agitatedly at Throttle's shirt. "This is too big. It makes me look like a hobo."

"That's the idea. I say again, you're a college kid enjoying his first club. College kids are invariably broke."

"Yeah, but –"

"And the way you carry on, you could pass for ten years old."

"I wanna wear my own shirt."

Something in Karma suddenly snapped. For fuck's sake. "I do _not_ have _time for this SHIT, Vinnie!_ Either you work with me or you _go the FUCK home_!" She was sick of this. _Are you fuckwits only ever going to complain?_ She wanted to throw something. She wanted to punch someone. She was never going to get anywhere if these idiots didn't shut up. "Know what? Fuck all of you. Go to fucking Hell. I'm going to be at Devil's Den, _working_. Do what the fuck you will, dickheads." She barged into her room and came back out with a blue bag over her shoulder. "It would make my life so much _easier_ if you just _went HOME_." The stairway door smashed shut behind her and bounced back open again with force. Karma stormed down the stairs and was swallowed into the street.

A silence settled over the little room. Modo closed his eyes slowly and rubbed his forehead. Vinnie was blushing angrily under his fur.

"Fuck." Throttle ran his hands through his hair, messing up Karma's I'm-a-pretentious-person hairstyle. "That went well."

"What is her _do_?"

"She's _stressed_, Vincent. She's trying to do her job and we're all... carrying on like mousebabes."

"Doesn't mean she can explode like a menstrual bi –"

"Can we just go find her? Let's go find her." Throttle felt weary. Like Karma had left a trail of frustration in the air.

* * *

Music thumped up and down the street, beating in Throttle's chest like a second, lecherous heart. Bikes and trucks packed the road and the shops were overflowing. These people had just appeared out of absolutely nowhere and everywhere, families, young guys, old men, in between. It was absolutely jam-packed.

"Where'd all these people _come_ from?"

"Beats me, there ain't nuthin' near here f' _maales_."

"Gentlemen." Vinnie grabbed both of them by the scruff of their necks and turned their heads towards Devil's Den. "Have a look."

Devil's Den was burning with light. Everyone either seemed to be trying to get in or were fighting their way out. Three girls in matching halter-necks and fishnets were performing various acrobatic feats on the roof, squealing and waving. _Come in, boys, the water's fine and the women are finer!_

Throttle could hear Vinnie grinning. "Well, fellas, that's where we're due."

"Ah so do not wanna go in there."

"_Too late!_" Vinnie squealed, marching them to the door.

There was no line or any sign of order. You just had to shove your way through. It was lucky they had Modo, who towered above everyone else by a foot at the very least. They followed him closely as people just got the Hell out of his way.

Even so, it took them a while to manage to get to the door. Throttle was almost glad to get through when a bouncer with only one eye materialised from thin air and barred their way. Vinnie was indignant. "Hey!"

"House rules." The bouncer ignored him. "No touchin', or you deal with me. No followin', or you deal with me. No tryin' to take our girls home." This last one had particular menace. "Or you deal with me."

Modo shouldered his way forward and glowered at the bouncer. They were missing opposite eyes – Modo's left to the bouncer's right. "Get out of my way. Or you deal with me."

The bouncer let them through.

Throttle felt like he'd just walked into an audio blow-heater. Screams and howls and pulses of sound from a never-ending row of speakers overran his head. Vinnie positively squealed with delight. Modo groaned internally. Throttle tried to remember the last time he'd been inside a place like this.

He'd still been young – it'd been the year after Sortie died, so he would have been eighteen. [Author's Note: Sortie is the main character in the upcoming Mad-Eyed Owl story "Sortie and the Heartstitch", which documents the years that the bros spent in cadets. Sortie is Throttle's first love.] He'd been grieving and missing her for the whole year, and had been craving a woman's touch. When Vinnie gave him a dare to sneak out with him and go to a "club" in Olympus Mons City, he agreed only out of principle – and then upon arriving, realised that Vinnie's "club" was missing the word "strip" in front of it.

There had been a tabletop dancer, a number of years older than himself. Her hair was luxurious, long and red, and her eyes had been strikingly dark. It was all he had needed to think of Sortie – and she saw him looking, saw the pain on his face, and took a shine to him. She invited him back to her place. He went. She didn't ask him to pay. He cried out Sortie's name in the night.

He'd never gone inside a club since then, until now.

He didn't know whether this place was seething with men or women. Both – but for different reasons. There were platforms for the girls to dance on along the walls and through the centre of the club, and small tables if you wanted to sit down and have a drink. A bar glimmered at the far end. The lights were bad and flashing.

He couldn't see Karma anywhere.

Vinnie and Modo had disappeared – Vinnie probably to peer up some skirt (or lack of it). Modo was probably looking for a dark corner in which to hide.

_Why are we here again?_

He was meant to be looking for Rats, he reminded himself. _Rats, Rats, Rats_. But it was impossible to see who was who from where he was standing – faces blurred as the disco lights blinked on and off.

There were people from everywhere. Massive Northerners with their thick black fur, tall fair Yellerbaxians, scrawny red-furred Netherred ferals [Author's note: Netherreds are a cultural group of Mice from the mid-Northern areas of Mars, characterised by their unique accents, bright red fur, curly hair and slim bodies. They are sometimes called 'ferals' due to their aptly feral behaviour and disregard for any kind of authority), scummy-looking scavengers and nomads from the desert, young and old, poor and poorer, and the _women_. The women moved like animals, dancing, sliding, climbing poles and walls and men, their fur shining and their eyes all covered with black lace so that they could turn into anyone their customers wanted them to be. They were thin and leggy, their shoes too big or too high, their clothes working against them, their tails whipping in every direction. They were horrifically beautiful, every one of them. Because that was their job.

He found himself standing next to a platform where a number of girls were taking turns dancing. They shrieked and giggled at him, but he didn't meet their eyes. The girls took offence. "What are you, a faggot? Don't you want none of this?" He walked away quickly, not caring where he went, and found himself standing like a statue in the middle of a crowded dancefloor being jostled by knees and elbows. He fought his way out, trying to catch his breath. He couldn't remember what he was doing here anymore.

A Netherred girl with burning red fur approached him from the crowd, grabbing his ear to stop him and slowly sliding one hand from his shoulder down his belly. "Heya! 'Member me?" she half-yelled in his ear, trying to be heard above the music. It was the girl Reckoning that he'd met that afternoon.

He cleared his throat and hoped she didn't notice. "Hi."

"Tol'jeh yeh ma'at see meh agin. Evvyone det hengs rund hurr sees evvyone agin 'ventually." She seemed slightly drunk – she was definitely swaying. Maybe she was just moving to the music.

"No doubt."

"Want me t' dance?"

"You dance?"

"Evvyone dances. I git up n' dance, you give me a bitta moolah." She rubbed her finger and thumb together, her tail fitting epileptically behind her. She was definitely under the influence of something.

"No thanks." He tried to be polite.

"C'mon, _bu'shaki_." Throttle flinched at the term – his Misaa wasn't awesome, but he knew enough to recognise the slang term for "fuck buddy".

"No, I have a girlfriend."

"Den why're ya hurr?"

"To… see my girlfriend."

She stared at him blankly. Blankness turned to rage. "Nuh'boddeh have girlfriends _hurr_!" She spat at his feet. "Ah wouddeh danced real good fer ya, _bu'shaki_, but you'n getting nought fr'm Rekker'ning now." She tottered away, ranting to herself, and immediately bumped into a large Northerner. He smiled at her and gave her a few bucks, tucking it into the waist of her very short skirt – she laughed loudly, like he wanted her to, and crawled up onto the table where the Northerner and his friends were sitting to start a spiky, erratic dance that was way out of time with the music. Throttle turned away, remembering her uncultivated grin and her cigarette halo from that afternoon. Somehow, she looked even younger up on that table than she had looked then.

He sat down stiffly, feeling more out of place than ever, and ordered a drink from a girl wearing a frilly apron and not much else who was running around with a tray. She shot back and forth from the bar, chattering speedily, and Throttle wondered if all of the girls here were on some kind of stimulant. They sure as Hell acted like it. It probably helped them go all night.

The girl half-chucked his drink on the table. "Want anything else we got _loooots_ of drinks here and _wow_ you're kinda hot areyoufromround_here_?" She fluttered long fake eyelashes and laughed way too loudly.

He took a deep breath. "Get outta here. You're too young for me."

"Aw, you'renofunmister." She gave him a massive smile and scuttled away. Throttle took a throatful of beer and closed his eyes. The lights made his head ache and the music was too loud.

He was meant to be a sleazy, leering guy. _Sleazy and leering_. He was supposed to be looking for any kind of screw. He was here because he preyed on women. He had no shred of respect for them. He didn't care about them. He only wanted what they could give. He was one of _those_ guys. It went against the most intrinsic parts of his very nature and he wondered if Karma had given him this role deliberately.

Come to think of it, where had she gone? She'd stormed off into the street and had vanished. She said she was going here, but he couldn't see her anywhere. A woman like her would stand out, especially if she was a spectator instead of dance-meat. He took another mouthful of beer and shook himself. _Sleaze. Channel sleaze_.

A breathtakingly beautiful girl with long hair turned her languid eyes on him. He watched her wander over from across the room. She had a remarkable grace, like she knew how every muscle in her body worked. She definitely wasn't hyper-drugged like a lot of the other girls in this place. She was tall and might have had blonde fur, but it was hard to tell in this light. Her legs were long. _I like long. Can I be sleazy with long?_

She hopped up on a platform close to his table and wrapped herself around the pole, leaned down and smiled at him.

"Don' even recognise me, do you, sugar?" At least he wasn't _bu'shaki_.

He shook his head slowly, trying to think. "You're too pretty to have been the places I've been." _Did that sound right? Was that sleazy enough?_

It seemed to work. She snickered. "Maybe if I did _this_…"

She pulled at the gauze from her eyes and blinked deliberately. Her eyes were a particular shade of indigo – a shade that he knew. Her hair fell over her shoulder. It was dark blonde, highlighted with stripes of platinum and black. "Need anything else?" Her hands brushed at the strapless top, teasingly stroking the hem of the gossamer material.

"You're fucking with me." He was so horrified he could barely speak.

"You're so _coarse_, honey. I only dance." Karma did her sexy little chuckle thing, deep in her throat. She hadn't laughed like that for a while.

He wanted to seize her and drag her home. "_Why_?" It was nearly a wail.

She giggled. "We all gotta make some money in this world." She twined her hands around the pole, and then ran one palm down her sleek, fishnetted thigh. Her left shoulder was still bandaged. It made her look like she'd been beaten up. "I'm here to entertain you, baby. What's your pleasure?" She was positively purring.

"_Karma_."

"Karma? I can be Karma. I can come back to get you…"

He wasn't meant to say her name. He wasn't meant to say her name. He _was not meant_ to say her name –

But he realised that the role that she'd given herself, in comparison to the roles she'd given him and his bros, was the worst one of all. If she found any Rats, she was – she was going to _do_ things. _With_ the Rats.

He knew now why she'd decided to make them go with her. She needed protection.

But this was too much.

"We're meant to be looking for Ma –"

"_Don't say his name!_" He wasn't sure if she'd said it or not, because in the next second she leaned down from the pole and broke Devil's Den's biggest no-touching policy, brushing her lips against his and keeping them there.

Throttle felt like he'd been hit by lightning. He knew it was a good ploy to shut him up, but there was something strange about kissing Karma. He was stunned, completely kicked out from what she was doing, but at the same time he remembered what she'd said. _You have a role to play_.

Throttle, the real Throttle, would have pulled away, thrown her over his shoulder and marched out of this club with Karma kicking and screaming in his ear.

So he put one hand around her slender neck and pressed against her.

She twitched briefly, and then smiled. _Play the character. Play the creepy don't-give-a-damn womaniser. Come on, I know you can do it_.

He was surprised – he'd met people who smoked, even had a girlfriend for a short time who had smoked now and then, but they'd all had that bitter, cloudy stench of cigarettes. Karma didn't smell like that – the smell of her was softer, gentler, so he could actually bear it. Her hair fell forward, hanging over his face. It was scented with leather and a hint of rock-salt, as well as Karma's mild smoky smell –

"_Slut!_ Get off 'im!"

Karma whipped back as an imposing redhead marched up to them, her brow crunched down in a heavy scowl. "You're really pushing it, honey." She jerked her thumb at Throttle. "And _you_ – don't harass any of these girls. They work hard, got it? So you can look, but don't touch 'em."

Karma rolled her eyes and swung away, probably to amuse another potential customer. Throttle snorted at the woman. "You club-girls are all the same," he muttered. "I had somethin' goin' on there." Then he pushed past her and stormed back to a corner to brood.

_Jeez… did I just say that_?

He _had_ said that. Slowly he sank down in his seat, suddenly shaky. He'd just become somebody he thought he could never become.

He tried to watch everyone else, tried to look for somebody, watching the door just in case Mace miraculously walked in – but his eyes kept sliding back to Karma. She was with two other girls on a platform, rocking her hips from side to side in a seductive belly-dance. The girls, who had matching layered pink haircuts, seemed happy to let her take the limelight – they just swayed at the side, flanking their new blonde comrade with the illusion of rosy-scalped bodyguards. The guys were crowded around the podium, trying to tempt her down to their level so they could jump at her, but Karma wasn't having any of that – she leaned down to tickle a few chins and tap a few noses, before rising up again to entertain them.

Throttle watched Karma for a long time. The black gauze hid most of her face, but that didn't concern Throttle. It was her body that he was interested in. She wore so little that there wasn't much left for the imagination, but Karma had a great body anyway, so that didn't matter too much. In the dimness of the club with all the fluorescent light, her fur was a glittering rainbow of colours, switching from blue to pink to original gold, before melting into another aspect of the spectrum. Her scars were nowhere to be seen. It struck Throttle that Karma wasn't willowy like all the other girls in the joint – they all looked like raw muscle and bone. Karma had a big degree of curviness to her – she was a fair bit taller than the other dancers and had a lot more flesh on her frame. She was fit, he knew she was, but she still had a shape to her instead of the lines of her body going straight up and down. He noted that her figure was what Charley might have termed "hourglass" – broad shoulders and bosom and hips and a contracting waist. There was no word for it on Mars, but Karma was exactly his idea of how a woman should be.

He knew what all those men at her feet were thinking. It was burning in their heads and panting in their throats. _Sex, sex, sex_.

The only thing in his mind as he looked at her was _beautiful. Beautiful, beautiful, beautiful._

He didn't know which was worse.

* * *

The Rats didn't turn up. Somehow it seemed to Throttle that Karma had been expecting that. After Throttle spent another hour of warding off overly keen women and hiding in his corner, all while keeping Karma in sight just out of the corner of his eye, she hopped off her platform and just disappeared. Throttle spent another three or four hours moving from one side of the club to another, running into Modo once and Vinnie three times, looking at every single girl, trying to find her. He felt slightly protective and definitely worried that she'd just vanished. Especially after that kiss.

Jesus, that kiss. Was this unresolved sexual tension going to be a problem? Surely she would have avoided it if she could have. Maybe she _liked_ him and had used that as an excuse. She couldn't have just done it for the Hell of it.

Or maybe she had.

Either way, dammit, she was hot.

He ended up back at his table in the corner and sat down heavily. What if she'd found someone – had found a Rat – and had just gone for it? What if she was in some alleyway right now, doing things unspeakable, while he was here stuffing around when he should be watching her back? God, he felt useless. Where the freaking Hell _was_ she?

It was only when Throttle spied a pair of blonde fishnetted legs slinking towards him that his heart started palpitating for a different reason. Thank God she was OK. At least she _looked_ OK. She smiled and slid onto his table, crossing her legs in front of him. _You little poser_.

"Hi baby," she purred. She was wearing someone's jacket now, possibly with nothing underneath, but it still covered the majority of her upper body.

"Hey, sugar." He felt heat rising in his midriff, and then further down. And then even further down. Muscles started to tense. It took a great amount of control to keep his jaw from dropping. _Holy Hell. I just found my mojo_.

"Wanna go somewhere with me?"

"Sure." _Time to go home._

"OK. I'll get my stuff and then we'll go." She slid off the table and disappeared back through the crowd. Not even a minute later she returned with her blue bag over her shoulder.

"Ready?"

"As I'll ever be." Karma took his hand and threaded her way through the crowd. Throttle couldn't help smiling to himself as every man gave him looks that burned with jealousy. _Why yes, I am indeed the luckiest shit in this room._ He followed her to the door like a wolf, prowling.

The bouncer seemed to recognise her. He definitely recognised Throttle. Seeing them together caused him to frown. "Where you goin'?"

"What? This is my boyfriend. He's takin' me home." Karma looked slightly irritated.

The bouncer peered at them with his only eye, trying to make sense of this very strange arrangement.

Throttle slid into his part like sliding into a driver's seat. "There a problem?"

"Nobody takes these girls home."

"Oh my _God!_" Karma gushed angrily. "He's my _boyfriend!_ He comes to work with me to protect me, my shift's over, I'm going home!"

Throttle backed her up smoothly. "Nobody touches my woman. I go to make sure've that – work's risky, y'know?" He motioned vaguely back inside.

"Too right, sugarboots." Karma smiled at him like he was the smartest person she'd ever met.

The bouncer's brow was buckling painfully. "Are you… you that new girl?"

"Only for tonight, sweetie. Ask Schrade, he's round here somewhere. I had a contract."

The bouncer turned to Throttle, who had absolutely no idea what was going on. "You organise a contract with Schrade for her?"

Throttle glanced at Karma, who just stared back blankly. _I can't help you._ He turned and nodded. "I organise _everything_ that she does." _God, I hope that works._

It seemed to cut it for the bouncer, anyway. "Alright, I'll check with him. Have a good night, you two." He let them out into the street.

Throttle let go of her hand as they walked through the door, but the look that Karma gave him obviously meant he wasn't done acting yet. So he slung a possessive arm around her shoulders and she curled up against him, virtually purring. They waited outside on the pavement for Modo and Vinnie.

Throttle started playing with her hair without thinking and she put an arm around his waist. _Keep up the character. Keep up the character._

_I really like keeping up the character._

He suddenly noticed that her blonde locks were several shades lighter and that the streaks were gone. "What did you do to your hair?"

"I dyed it. The girls helped me. This is closer to my natural colour. I was getting tired of having tiger hair anyway."

"It's… nice." It _was_ pretty nice.

"Thankyou." She smiled at him like she was seventeen and blushing.

"Why'd you dye it?"

"Eh." She shrugged. "Just coz I could."

"Fair enough."

He could still smell her smoky, salty, leathery fragrance. Somehow, it was quickly becoming the sexiest scent.

It was actually kind of turning him on.

"Is that where you went? To dye your hair?" _She can _smell_ your horniness. Stop it_.

She looked blank. "Went where?"

"I dunno. I was watching you and then you got off your dance-stage thing and you just vanished. I was worried, I thought you'd found who we were looking for."

Some kind of emotion flickered on her face. _Is she guilty?_ "Oh yeah. Sorry." _Holy Hell! She IS GUILTY!_ "Yeah, I should have told you. These girls have lots of pretty things out the back, like a salon and everything, and I thought 'what the hey'. It took a while. I got to unwind for a little bit."

"I was looking for you. I thought something had happened."

"Yeah. I know. Sorry. I was just having some 'me' time. There's no Rats here, so I thought I might as well get pretty."

Throttle just smiled at her and turned to look at the night sky. _Silly lady. You already were._

Vinnie had obviously seen them slink out of the pub, because he followed them about five minutes later. "Do we really have to go? I wanna stay here!"

"You disgust me," Karma muttered. Vinnie sulked as they waited for Modo.

When Modo finally appeared, he looked fairly ready to ride out of Beaconsfield altogether – he was being stalked by a tiny dark-furred dancer, very obviously drunk, who kept trying to grab particular parts of Modo's anatomy that he really didn't want to have grabbed. "You, sir, are _huge_. You know how long it been since I had a man? You know how long? I _tell_ you how long –"

Karma started laughing. Modo desperately tried to change the subject. "What's your name?"

"Squeals."

"Why Squeals?"

"You wanna find out, sugarboots?" Despite the fact that she was incredibly drunk, Squeals slunk around Modo with remarkably sexy grace. "I can make it _extra_ good, I like big fellas like you…"

The bouncer tapped her on the shoulder. "Back inside, Squeals."

"Aww, but he so _good_-lookin'…"

The bouncer looked weary. "You know the rules, Squealy, back inside."

Squeals glared at him, suddenly furious. "You fucking _bastard!_ All I want is to make money for my _kids_, I gotta _survive!_"

"Squeals. Inside."

"I ain't seen my kids for _months_, you said I could go home after I made you enough money!"

"You shut up right now, bitch."

Squeals screamed with rage and leapt at him, beating little fists. The bouncer caught her by the arm and threw her roughly back through the door. They could still hear her screaming as she was swallowed by the crowd.

The three guys and Karma stared after her in the awkwardness that usually settles over a group when they see something that they didn't want to see. The bouncer shrugged. "You can't take these girls home."

"Something tells me we can't take then anywhere." Karma pulled the lace off her eyes. Much to Throttle's surprise, her fingers slid around Throttle's hand. "Let's go home."

They were a few metres down the road before Modo said something. Rolling his gaze skyward, he sighed, "Why me?"

"It's the eyeliner," Karma said decidedly. Nobody said anything else as they walked back to the pub.

Karma didn't let go of Throttle's hand the whole way there.

* * *

Awwww. Coz AWWWW. Poor Karma's feeling a bit vulnerable! Should I further this relationship? Tell me in reviews!

Ohmygodsomuchlove.


	14. I Don't Panic I Just Get Alarmed

Ohai. So for those of you who don't know me, my name is Mad-Eyed Owl and I have commitment issues. I started writing this story in 2007 and when I say that I'm aiming to have it done by 2014 (seven years seems a nice round number), I want you to know that what I aim for is often a complete lie. So hi to all my old readers, hello to the new ones, and big love to the ones who have stuck by me for two years and FORCED me to get into Karma's brain again. I'd forgotten how it feels to write.

Bright blessings,

MEO.

* * *

I Don't Panic. I Just Get Alarmed.

Karma unlocked the door and they rushed to get inside away from the noise of the street. Karma clacked on the security chain behind them as though following some sublime instinct to keep out bad energy.

The magnitude of the night hit Throttle so hard and so suddenly that he had to kind of slump onto one of the chairs. "Karma, _why_ was I your boyfriend?"

Vinnie's and Modo's ears perked up so high that they quivered but Karma appeared as though she could have cared less. "I told them you were my pimp, though pimps are usually called 'boyfriends' anyway."

"It would have been much more useful if I'd _known_ that." Throttle felt huffy. "Can we start right from the beginning? Why were you a _stripper_?"

"Str-? _Whoa_." Vinnie suddenly looked at Karma properly. "You don't have any _pants_ on. How did I not _notice_ this?"

"Oh, fuck you Vincent." Karma threw her blue bag at his face but it didn't shut up him.  
"You're a _stripper_! You were a _stripper_ in there!" He pointed at her as though his fingers were exclamation marks. Karma looked at Modo for support, but his face was so shocked that she couldn't bear to meet eyes with him.

She rolled her eyes upward and let out a long, numbing sigh. "Yes, children. Tonight, I played the part of a stripper. I did not tell you because a), you were arguing about whose clothes you were going to borrow, and b), if I had told you, you wouldn't have let me go."

"Oh my God." Vinnie's eyes were bulging. "Did you give people lap-dances?" He looked at Throttle. "Did you give _him_ a lap-dance?"

Karma spluttered and Throttle's mind was filled with visions of The Kiss. Vinnie whooped and Modo had to sit down.

"Is this why you never leave him alone? Does he _always_ need parental supervision?" Karma was at a total loss regarding Vinnie's behaviour.

Throttle just had to laugh. "Um, hi Karma. You dressed like a stripper tonight, and then you _danced_ like a stripper tonight, and tonight, _you were pretty much a stripper_."

She didn't think it was funny. He knew this because she tried to smack him and he had to move out of his chair. "OK, fine, so it's not funny. We were just surprised because we thought you'd be scoping things out incognito. But how do you even _know_ a guy who owns a place like that?"

She composed herself. "I know Schrade from a few years back. I've worked with him before - oh fuck you, Vinnie," she snapped as Vinnie's laughter snorted out his nose. "He's small-time criminal scum but he's been useful as an info source in the past, I just said I needed a favour and he said it was fine, go ahead."

"Did he know you's goin' t' dress... la'ak that?"

"Yes, Modo."

"N'... he was OK wit that?"

"I guess." Karma ran her fingers through her new light blonde hair. "He introduced me to some of the girls. They were pretty nice."

Throttle looked at her in a weird way. "They were pretty _high_ when I was in there. And young."

"I know -"

A sudden celebratory rat-a-tat of outside gunfire frightened the Hell out of everyone - blasters, arm cannon and Derringer were immediately cocked. They listened together, but there was nobody screaming and nobody panicking - it was just some dickhead with a loaded gun.

Karma sighed. "This place gives me shakes. We'll leave in the morning."

"Thank th' Lordy." Modo buzzed down his arm cannon and Karma suddenly jumped.

"Oh my _God_ Modo, how fast can you _load_ that thing?"

"Same ta'am's you kin load yer gun."

"You know you're the only person in Mars who is responsible enough to use it properly."

"Thankyou, Miss Karma."

"Welcome." She put her Derringer in the waistband of her tiny little shorts. "I'll need to return these clothes in the morning."

"Can I come?"

"Go die, Snow-Balls."

"Fine, fuck you." He didn't seem to take it too personally. "Well, _I_ am going to go and get drunk. I will see you in the morning. Excuse me, mentlegen." He headed for the front door and stomped down the stairs to the pub below.

Karma stared after him with a strange look on her face. "He seems weirdly OK with all this fucked-uppery around here."

Throttle glanced at the closed front door. "He's OK. He just needs to be alone, I think."

"Mm-hmm." She picked up her blue bag from the floor. "Y'know, I know he's a good kid."

"Really?" Modo and Throttle were equally surprised.

"Yeah, I know. He's annoying as fuck but he's OK." She didn't want to say that she understood Vinnie more than she understood the other two - she and he were both pretty good at acting like nothing mattered and that nothing affected them when they were actually at their most vulnerable.

She sat down on the floor, took her boots off and put them to one side, opening her blue bag. Her feet ached like anything. She pulled her pyjamas and shower kit out of her bag and sat there for a few seconds, musing.

Modo had gotten up and was picking through Ducati's food absently, looking for something to nibble on. Throttle was sitting on one of the couches, his shoes off, polishing his blaster. Vinnie was probably out somewhere, raising Hell. There was friendly movement and light in this place, while people screwed and drank and swore and abused each other outside. She actually felt safe.

If she had been doing this alone, she would have needed to leave that club at the end of the night after all of those horrible men had been forced out. She would have had to dance until the wee hours, exhausted and hot and humiliated, playing a woman that she loathed while keeping an eye out for some Rats that she knew would probably never come. The idea of trying to leave that place by herself just terrified her. Just walking across the room towards Throttle when she'd wanted to leave had been terrifying. Being able to take the hand of this big scary guy and make it obvious to every other scumbag in there that she was under his protection just made her feel good. She didn't like needing it, but knowing that it was there was actually... actually OK.

"Can I say something?"

"Sure."

"I'm... I'm kind of glad you came out after me tonight. I should have been more patient with you. It was cool to have someone suffering there with me."

"Welcome."

"Cool." She got up, pyjamas in hand. "I'm going to have a shower, and then I am going to pack up, and then I am going to go to bed. We'll leave in the morning." She padded to the bathroom and shut the door.

"That was na'ace of her."

"Yeah." Throttle smiled. "It was."

* * *

"So who's bunking with who?"

It was a perfectly reasonable question but the fact that Karma had asked it directly after stepping out of the bathroom in a towel made it a bit harder to concentrate. Modo immediately looked the other way and gazed attentively at the wall. She noticed, and couldn't contain a snigger.

"For God's sake, woman, this is the second time we've seen you in a towel," Throttle quipped, referring to when she had charged down the hallway of Mrs. Madde's house when her mobile rang in the middle of her shower. "Put some freaking clothes on."

"You should talk, man-skank, you wear less than I do."

"Your tone drips jealousy."

She poked her tongue out at him – a strange and childish motion that made the scar on her chin twist into an S-shape – and wandered into the bedroom that Throttle had slept in earlier that day. _Guess we're bunking_. He sighed - it wasn't an unhappy sigh, just... complicated.

He finished polishing his blaster - he hadn't really been doing it for any particular reason anyway - and wondered where they would go tomorrow. So far as he could see, they'd hit a dead end. There were no Rats here to talk to and there was a pretty strong chance that nobody here would remember a Rat and a she-Mouse coming and leaving together - or if they did, they probably wouldn't think it was too weird. Worst, they would know and they wouldn't tell.

Karma didn't seem too stressed about anything right now, though. Maybe it was because she'd just relaxed in the shower. Maybe she had something up her sleeve. He could hear her coming out of the bedroom, he'd turn around and ask her -

He turned his head and stared. She was wearing a set of blue pyjamas, a matching singlet top and flanelette slacks. Her bandage shone white against her shot shoulder. He hadn't seen her in pyjamas before and they'd been on this trip for... eight nights? _Only_ eight nights?

She had her hair over her shoulder and was sinking a thick comb into it, tearing out knots. She'd washed her makeup off and she smelt nice.

She caught his eye and saw he was staring. So he opened his mouth, and out of all of the things he could have said, he said this:

"Why are you wearing pyjamas?"

She frowned. "...Because they're comfy?" She seemed to think that it was a trick question.

"It just seems... They make you look different." They made her look innocent.

"...That's because they're different clothes." She was clearly still suspicious that he was going to say something to hurt her feelings and was treading carefully.

"No, I just... you look nice."

"Thankyou...?"

A sudden roar downstairs in the bar ended Mars's most awkward conversation. There was the sound of breaking glass and people screaming at each other - clearly a barfight had erupted.

"Fuck this place," Karma sighed.

"I know -"

They could suddenly hear someone thumping up the stairs. "Uh oh." The thumping and the screaming got louder and louder and Karma swore, ran into her room and came out with her gun. "_Noooooo_ way am I having Beaconsfield psychos in here!"

"Oh my God, calm _down_ -"

Karma pointed it at the door unflinchingly. Someone banged on the door and then yelled out.

"HARLEYYYYYYY!"

Karma dropped the gun. "What the Hell, _Vinnie._" She opened the door and Vinnie fell in on top of her, knocking them both to the ground.

"_Fuck's_ sake, Vincent!" Karma tried to push him off but he was like a mousebabe, he couldn't even get himself on his hands and knees. Throttle had no idea how he'd managed to get up the stairs until he noticed a tiny coffee-coloured she-Mouse standing a little way behind the door.

"Hi."

"Hello." Her voice was soft. "Is he yours?"

"Yeah, he's ours."

"He's drunk up everything downstairs," she murmured, her eyes wide. "He paid, but I don't think he's very well..."

Karma had managed to push Vinnie off of her and was trying to make him get up. He opened his eyes and stared at her. "Harley?"

"No, Snow-Balls, it's Karma."

"Y'rr n't Harley."

"Nope. Help me, Modo."

Modo picked him up and carried him to the couch. Karma turned to the she-Mouse. "Are you Thriller's wife?"

"Yes. I run the bar during the night."

"Thanks for sending him up."

She shrugged. "I had to. He was picking fights."

Throttle was surprised. "Vinnie? He never picks fights."

Thriller's Wife shrugged again. "Hey, if he'd kept quiet I wouldn't've cared, but I can't have no fights in my bar."

Karma scowled. "You let him drink himself stupid and then blame him for starting a fight?"

"Hey, this is Beaconsfield. We deal in sluts and drunks. Deal with it." Thriller's Wife turned around and flounced back down the stairs. Karma slammed the door.

Vinnie was rolling around on the couch, something red glistening on his upper lip. "Is he bleeding?"

"Onny a little." Modo was peering at Vinnie's face closely. "Not too bad."

"Vinnie, did you get punched?"

Vinnie's eyes flickered open. "N' some _dick_ wanned a _piece_, wanned a _piece_ a' me. Said "whurr's ya girlfriend", I said "Buddy, m'girlfriend's _way_ hotter than yours"..."

Throttle had only seen Vinnie drunk a couple of times before, but he'd always been a happy sleepy sort of drunk, interested in curling up with soft things and singing loud songs and passing out in women's beds. This Vinnie had red eyes and was drooling and angry. He reeked of spirits and his nose was starting to bleed.

"Let me see your nose, Vinnie."

"Haaaaa! Allllllll the ladies want some _Vincent van Wham_." Vinnie rolled and tried to grab her - not even any specific part of her anatomy, his hands just lobstered in her general direction - but Karma swatted him away and wrinkled her nose. "He needs a cold pack. Do we have a cold pack?"

"I ma'at do, n' ma bag."

"Can you go get it, Modo? His snout might be broken, it looks crooked." It was true - whoever had hit him had done a Hell of a job.

"No prollem, see you in a bit." Modo headed out the door.

Karma scratched behind her ear and thought. "Should we let him sleep on the couch?"

"Mm' not sleepin'!"

Throttle shrugged. "I guess so."

"OK. C'mon Vinnie, let's get your boots off, it's time for bed -"

Vinnie suddenly sat up. "_Nooooo._ I wan' _Charley_ put me d' bed." His temper flared. "_No-one else moves_ 'til she get here."

"Charley?"

"M' _Earth_ girlfriend." Vinnie stared at Karma. "She's so gorgeous. _She's_ like, like a _dream_ in _engine grease_." He started to laugh.

"What the _Hell_?" Karma was totally incredulous. "Is he in love with _everyone_?"

Throttle frowned. "Hey."

Karma backed off. "Whatever. Vinnie, Charley can't come."

"She _has_ t' come."

"She's all the way on Earth, she couldn't come even if she wanted." Throttle wasn't sure if he was making it better or worse.

"_Why_?" Vinnie's eyes were watering. "_Why_?"

There was a second of silence, and then in a horrible moment, Vinnie started to cry.

"No-one wants me. No-one _wants_ me. All these _girls_, I like 'em so _much_ n' then I can't be with 'em." He lay back down on the couch, sobbing.

"Oh, Vinnie." Karma had the strangest expression on her face. Modo came back with a cold pack and stared at everyone wordlessly.

"Here." Karma took the cold pack and held it up to Vinnie's face. "Hey Vin."

"What?"

"I think your snout is broken."

"M' face hurts."

"It's OK, honey." Her voice was soft and hypnotic. "We just got a cold pack for your face, I think you need it. Want me to put it on for you?"

Vinnie snuffled something and Karma took it as a yes, so she layed it out gently on the top of his snout. "Better?"

"No. M' not _loved_."

"Well, that's why we're all on this trip. So we can all see Harley again, OK?"

"Ba's not workin'."

"It will work. We just need a bit more time. We're not going to go home until she's safe. OK?"

"...M'k."

"You go to sleep, and tomorrow we'll go see a doctor for your face."

"D'n needa doctor."

"OK, just go to sleep then. You want a blanket?"

"...Yeah."

Karma got up to get a blanket from the other room, but Vinnie suddenly seized her hand. "Y'r real nice right now, Karma. D'you love me?"

Karma's eyes grew as wide as the moons and she stared at Throttle in total panic. _What do I do?_

Throttle couldn't help it, he started laughing. She hissed at him. "You're so fucking unhelpful." And then, to Vinnie: "Yes. I think you're pretty loveable. Now go to sleep."

"Allove you, Karma. I'think y'r _rad_." Vinnie closed his eyes and conked out straight away, his arm falling to the floor.

Karma reached over and pulled Throttle's forelock. "Screw you. What was I going to _say_ to him after all that?"

Modo was sniggering softly. "Tha'was funny."

"I'm sorry, it was." He got up with her to get Vinnie a blanket. "Don't worry, I don't think he'll remember asking."

Karma pulled one of the covers off of her bed and walked back to lay it over Vinnie. "He better not, or I'll spew." She pulled his boots off and tucked him in. "Look at his face!" she whispered. "Who _did_ this?" His face was starting to swell painfully.

"You were pretty nice to him earlier."

"I felt sorry for him. He's vulnerable." She got up and stretched. Throttle heard her injured shoulder audibly crack and didn't miss her wincing. Neither did Modo.

"Miss Karma? Kin ah look at yer shoulder?"

"Oh, this? It's fine. Ducati gave me some antibiotics to take, it should be OK."

"Well, OK..."

"Hey. I'm not the one who needs looking-after right now." She went back to the room that she and Throttle were going to share and paused for a second. "Hey Modo?"

"Yeah?"

"Can you do a girl a huge favour and ask if they have any more blankets downstairs?"

"No prollem."

"Thanks, darling one. Be careful, blow people up if they punch you."

"Yes ma'am." He opened the door and noise from the bar downstairs roared into the room, softening when he closed it again.

Karma got her toothbrush and stood in the doorway to the bedroom. "I'm going to brush my teeth and then I might hit it."

"Hit what?"

"Your face." She went to the bathroom and closed the door.

_She needs to close the bathroom door just to brush her TEETH_? It seemed ridiculous to Throttle, and kind of offensive - it was like she was holding him at arm's length, even though they'd been up to all kinds of shenanigans tonight. He could hear the tap running through the bathroom door and was suddenly overcome with this enormous urge to annoy her. Even if it was just to get her attention.

He knocked on the door. She didn't answer. He waited maybe thirty seconds and knocked again.

"_What_?"

"I need to pee."

"Then wait."

Maybe another thirty seconds. He knocked again. "Could you _wait_?" she snapped. "Lordy…"

The lock clicked off and she pulled the bathroom door open, a toothbrush hanging out the side of her mouth. "Jus' wait," she said thickly. She went back to the mirror and began brushing her teeth again.

Throttle watched her with a strange sort of feeling in his gut as she brushed, spat and washed her mouth out. He could tell she knew he was staring – her ears were cocked in his direction. He didn't actually fully understand why he found it so fascinating when she was doing something as menial as brushing her goddamn teeth.

She checked herself in the mirror, flicked her hair a few times and walked towards the door. "Night."

He extended an arm and blocked her path out of the bathroom. "Quite a night we've had," he murmured. She turned around and blinked up at him, letting out a breath that was just as sweet as the rest of her.

"You think so?"

He was leaning in closer before he realised it. It had been way too long since he'd been this close to a woman before, since he'd been able to trap one there and breathe down her neck. "Either you're a damn good actress, doll…"

"You think I meant it?"

"Meant what?"

"The kiss." She was admirably frank.

"That was what I was going to ask."

She leaned up on tiptoe and breathed into his mouth. "I'll let you think what you want." Then she slid fluidly under his arm and padded across the hall, throwing a wily smirk over her shoulder that glowed in the dark for a long time after she closed her bedroom door.

He leaned his back against the doorframe and closed his eyes. Interesting.

Interesting?

He hadn't had a woman so close to him for years. If Karma had stood there for just a second longer, he would have lost it. And she knew that.

So Karma liked games.

He smiled to himself.

He liked her game a lot as well.

* * *

SEX. BOWCHICKAWOWOW I'll leave.

FOR SERIOUS THOUGH, SO MUCH FUN. Big shout-out to Arcangel'sWerewolf for pointing out that Karma is awesome and doesn't deserve to be forgotten.  
Big love, chickens? Reviews, sil vous plait?


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